In time of exagerate number of selfies, in time of digital and future technologies, I had difficulty to find old pictures of memories in the small island of Boipeba, where I live: it was something rare and precious. And I remembered that, when I arrived here in 2003 with my (analogic) camera, everybody asked me what it was that instrument.
During those photographic sessions, native people showed me their parents, sometimes showed me themselves, and sometimes, at the end, they didn´t show anything, like a "pentimento" for exhibiting too much and trying to save their memory.
During those too short photographic sessions, they gave me many words, tears, smiles, but no more that one memory in paper: the only one they have.
Dona Carmelita and her husband
Dona Ana and her "cocorito"
Dona Celina and her mother
Geraldo and his father
Roque and himself (by me)
Dona Dida and her husband
Dona Palmira and her "everything"
Balbino and himself
Dona America and her oldest son
Dona Raimunda and herself
Dona Telinha and her husband
Dona Isabel and herself in a Candomblé cerimony (by me)
Dona Ines and herself and her husband
Agapito, dona Maria, their niece and themselves
Dona Bobôca and her Santa Barbara
