An Atlas of Belonging in Limbo.

part 1.

The first part of the project contemplates a world in unsettling transition. Sunlight persists, yet the air hangs heavy, and the vibrant tapestry of birdsong frays into silence. Our connections – once familiar – strain and transform... A profound rift widens in the shared ground beneath us, mirroring a society hardening, its empathy thinning. We sense a collective stumble, a gnawing absence where compassion resided. The imperative to move, to migrate from this fractured point, remains urgent. Yet, a stark quiet descends, visions grow shadowed by a gathering, unsettling presence... 

What do you feel?

Compass for the Displaced.

Part 2.

This part emerged from my own displacement, searching for logic in a bordered world. I confronted brutal contradictions fuelling migration:

Why does inequality force movement while walls rise?

How did history create zones of abundance and deprivation? Why do barriers deny dignity to those seeking safety or opportunity?

Where is home?

Where do I belong?

When science offered no answers to this human cost, I turned to philosophy and psychology. Marx revealed why the oppressed defend their chains; Fromm, the fear of freedom that rejects liberation; Kahneman, the cognitive flaws making us abandon the vulnerable.

Their insights framed my core questions through migration's lens:

• Why pathologize identities forged by crossing borders?

• Who declares displaced people "unfit," and by what right?

• Why look away from forced migration?

• Is belonging a fixed place (noun) or an act of courage (verb)?

Do we own land or nurture those who arrive?

In these ruins of certainty, I assemble a compass for the displaced.

On Humanity and Life in female body.

Part 3.

For the this part, I chose the figure of a woman as a lens—not because her oppression is simple, but because her history is the most visibly documented. (Other marginalized identities face complexities that demand deeper excavation.)

Once, I was called a feminist; I even exhibited under that banner. Yet the term never fit. Feminist? Me? Which wave? I read Simone de Beauvoir, searching for answers. But even she asked, ‘What is a woman?’—and I found only a hollow echo. To me, a woman was never more or less: just human. A human capable of being anything: fragile, exploited, manipulated, unshielded.

Why must a woman beg for safety?

A gay man plead his worth?

A scientist, a Jew, a child—barter their humanity for refuge?

Pope Francis called migration ‘a complex reality’—war, poverty, climate. But when survival hangs on proof, complexity becomes cruelty.

Why should a woman (or a gay man, a scientist, a Jew, a Christian, a Black child, an orphan) justify their humanity to earn safety?

When did migration stop being a cry for life and start being an application to be graded?

Where the Torch Passes to Unafraid Hands.

Part 4.

I am an optimist. I believe fiercely in youth—in their power to sculpt a brighter world. The planet is becoming better. Those who follow us will wield more compassion, wisdom, and knowledge than we ever dreamed. They are armed with truth; they hunger for justice.

They are bright.
They are beautiful.
They are fearless.

Yes, they may stumble—still playful, still experimenting—but I know they will rise. They will shatter old hierarchies. They will build deeper equality. They will heal what we fractured.

I believe in this new generation.

They are the dawn we’ve been waiting for.

On Common Knowledge, Compassion, and the Light We Carry.

Part 5.

I believe the destination has always been there: common knowledge. Not naïve unity, but a shared understanding—forged through our collective yearning.

One day, we’ll speak a single language:compassion.

One culture: human.

Without borders, but united in our diversity.

No more seeking answers out there—we’ll hold them within.

We’ll cherish diversity as strength, not threat.

Wield power not for domination, but creation.

See beauty where others see brokenness.

Compassion is not a luxury—it’s a muscle.

Friendship isn’t given—it’s built.

Kindness isn’t innate—it’s chosen.

We won’t live forever, but we can make living enough.

And when darkness falls?..We carry the light inside.

And this is the place where I belong.