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Photo from the series "Blood of Calcutta"
Yes, there is no Theresa in this photo. The title refers, not to the form, but to the content. To a feeling. The feeling to be in a place so lively, and by extension, so deadly that you become India (not Indian). Life and death work together, and the more you get of one side, more you get of the other one. Heads and tails. Calcutta, for a foreigner, is a burst of life on the pavements. Shops between wall are closed, while under the dusty leaves are myriad of stalls. You can buy anything, you can eat everything. Stories are told on each pots, stones, faces. You just have to watch the signs. But in the same time, with the excitement to plunge into exuberance, you fall into the poverty. Into the feeling that death is at the corner. The buildings are crumbling, the dust settle on your hands, the noise is overwhelming. There, there is a lively unity but here a deadly egocentrism. People, near, smile to be alive; yet, they fight physically to survive. Life is beautiful even though the existence is horrendous. You watch, you are a photographer, and you understand that women, men and children have to ripen fast their life, aka their soul, thus their spirituality, while their existence is attacked, almost destroyed. That's a place for a Christian penitence or what? For a photographer, it's the place to meet the energy of blessed Theresa of Calcutta. It's easy, it's everywhere. PS: I've spent 3 years in India and love the density of life there.

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