by Ana Nenadovic
Trampling they push through your doors,
Violently they dismantle you piece by piece,
Until you are left stripped, bare.
Shamefully they avert their gaze,
Contemplating your nakedness only from the corner of their eyes,
Forgetting you slowly.
But you, you do not forget, you try to, yet you can’t.
Though, not forgetting does not equal pausing.
You do not remain in your bareness,
You strive for renovation and union
With the new that surrounds you.
Without discarding your past, without renouncing your future.
Slowly, unperceived, you heal from the inside,
Grow and turn into something new,
Which they admire and praise,
Forgotten their guilt and your wounds.
But you, you do not forget,
With pride you display your healed wounds
From the past in the present to the future.
Locations on the photos from left to right: Pakrac/Croatia; Berlin/Germany; Berlin/Germany; Manchester/England
This project was developed in the Encounters media workshop: “Women tell stories through photography” by Luiza Folegatti and Ina Schebler.