Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA

Haram 2018 (1 of 19)

Memories exist for themselves here.

A stranger on the bus.

Piled up in corners.

Stuffed into drawers.

They sit up unannounced.

Undo their buttons and run into the streets.

Surrounded by buildings with men in between them, rooted like trees reminding me.

The expression in his eyes reminds me.

The requirements of my uniform reminds me.

My heart pulsing inside these fragile wrists.

I have gone too long.

Choices. Sacrifices. 

Mud. Blood. Smells.

There’s a place where the land expands like out reached limbs.

It’s heat rising from red soil shaping dreams with no distinction between distance and closeness.

The only difference now is that home is in front of my closed eyes.

There’s no light but the shape has not changed.

 

Haram I learnt means forbidden in Sudanese. For this project I photographed Venus a woman working with young refugees and asylum seekers in London. We spoke about displacement & notions of femininity and thoughts associated with these ideas which later became an inspiration for the final images and poem.

1 of 19 images