In front of the surveillance of the police my scaffolding becomes the watchtower of a camp of castaways from the beaches of Ipanema and Copacabana. What am I going to do with this new crowd which is so different from my previous subjects? Feeling uneasy for being witness of this exclusion, tiredness overcomes my body destabilising it. In other words, something inside of me knows, without me actually knowing. The flight of the seagulls leads my gaze to the other side, beyond the bay, towards a factory complex: chimneys, a bridge, a highway. I direct the lens to the sand in the foreground with its pink parasols. Committed to showing only mixed-race skin leaving this milky basin without foam. I don’t know where I want to reach. I’m up there with my “camera”. I gradually begin to like these young Brazilians that have descended in groups from the favelas in Rio.

No explanations, comments, or records. I have been on the lookout for a few days now. They don’t pay any attention to me anymore, and are no longer afraid of me. They just run around playfully. With laughter and energetic water games, they are relieved from their misery. I’m no longer part of their landscape, nonetheless I’m still here, at my place, like a predator, eagerly waiting, standing still! Unbothered, I stare at each of them observing their more intimate details. Mix of skin, confusion of swimsuits, similarities and oppositions, patient and impatient of waiting for that moment of synchronicity, the moment to trigger, that surprising immobilism tha slips away. Without realising it, the relief, my vitality.

Maurice Soustiel, "Piscinão de Ramos" in Rio de Janeiro. Massimo Vitali, Les éditions Be-Poles, Collection Portraits de villes, Paris, 2014.