How far does one need to go, in order to get to the place where he came from?
Using the images I will show, I want to emphasize the contrast between our daily routine and the suffering of the 'Other'
This is expressed in the way we manage to live our life in the presence of the 'Other'.
Does the seemingly unimportant daily routine give us basic condolence?
Does the daily routine censor the chaos and cruelty, that reality contains us by blurring our feelings and turning us Isolated from each other?