The solitude? The vastness of the space? The endlessness of the horizon? Why does the desolate seem beautiful? I wanted to know. Why had I fallen in love with that land full of nothingness and dust? What I had seen in Morocco was, certainly, very different from everything that I had been able to see and experience previously, in my homeland: so different from everything that was mine and, nonetheless, so similar to me. Similar... to me? That question, like so many others, was left hanging in the air.
Those weeks, in front of the desolate landscapes of my photographs, I experienced a solitude unknown to me. Anything that someone might have wanted to tell me when I was before my images would have been totally in vain.
Pablo d’Ors, excerpt from The Friend of the Desert
(Click to enlarge image)
