An ongoing series
I have been fascinated by borders lately; they are rather recent, fragile inventions, drawn by people, redrawn by power, yet they can feel permanent, cold, even cruel. Most of the time, you cannot see them. But still, they stop you. Or define you. Or let you pass while turning others away.
For this series, I speak with friends and acquaintances, people with layered lives and shifting homes about the moments when borders became real to them. We talk about the lines between countries, but also about the ones beween safety and fear, between identity and perception, between self and society.
"I’m not sure I’d want to live anywhere else. I love where I am," one of them says. "But if there were no borders, I think I would feel much freer. More at ease. It’s hard to explain. It’s just a feeling."
Some tell me about war, exile, separation. Others about passports, privilege, and longing. So borders are not just lines on a map. They are feelings. They are memories. They are decisions made by others.