I am here, in the early morning, in the mountains, at 2600 m, in the monastic city of the highlands of Ethiopia, in Lalibela. Ten centuries of Christian tradition have been permeated the walls of these churches carved from the living rock, a strange atmosphere, a breath of air emanates from this Holy Land called «Black Jerusalem».

They come from everywhere, as shadows, ghosts, silhouettes, furtive movements, songs, complaints upset me, but also, they fascinate me, I feel like I am moving to another world, elsewhere, and I want to hold onto these moments, make them immortal with my camera, in order to share this ascension in the indefinable…

I do not speak their language, I do not know their culture, but even for a few moments, I find myself travelling in their world…

Where do they go, these men, these women, these children,
Are they gathering, always, on the freshness, in the rain, in the heat..? Why these churches … carved from the living rock, for centuries, These candles, these crosses..?
Why these ghosts, this loneliness, these screams, those whispers,
At night, into the shadows, into the light?
Whose screams are these, these pains, these memories…
These offerings, these hopes, these smiles..?
Why? For whom?