In 2003, Portugal was seriously injured by forestall fires. Near 420 thousands of hectares (an area equivalent to the district of Vila Real) burned impavidly before the whimpered look of the entire country and mainly those of the people whose fire has graze their skin indelible.
The fire broke into, sacked and destroyed the houses of many Portuguese. Rivers of tears had furrowed the faces of those who have seen their memory turned into ashes. One without memory feels naked. Despair lead many people to fight the fire throwing, innocently, small basins and buckets of water to the entrails of the untouched fire. The water was not enough, they collect the tears in fragile containers.
When the heaven has undressed itself from the obscurity and the night has recovered its darkness, the desolation scraped the aches looking for the lost ground. With the fire extinguished the water is still necessary to the rebirth. The survivors are strong, with nothing in their bodies they collected the tears in fragile containers founded, in the reconstruction nothing can be wasted.
Theses photos are the fiction of what I lived as a distant spectator. As Cesare Pavere once wrote: "The human imagination it's immensely poorer than reality".
Text Nelson D'Aires
Translation Sofia Quintas
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