Follow Clara, Jota and Vinicius as they convene with the spirits in the hills of Rio de Janeiro
I ask. “Am I invisible to ghosts?” They reply. “It’s like being distant inside yourself, the body has meaning, but the spirit has answers.
That light comes from us. All the colour comes from our eyes. It moves outward. Just like these spirits. Just like these ghosts.”
They communicate without speaking.
The opportunity to study the confinement around the bones that carry them. Skin, my own colour, proves an important study before joining them.
It’s beautiful here, I say, “Define it's?” They ask, before answering themselves, “If you believe once then you always believe.”
Silently, I join them, at the same time, I ignore them. “Turn your eyes and re-engage with death.” They say, “If a ghost has come to reach you, even for a purpose given by God, it’s a spirit come down.”
They tell me, “Ghosts are never real. We are never haunted, only watched. Only blessed.”
Feel defeated by the skin, by the breath, which exits like a flawless machine even when nothing else is working.
We are haunted by reminisce of walls. Locked and left behind is always spiritual, it's the essence of us all. I feel them.
There is an unremarkable difference of location. Somewhere in the sky, out of reach, there is a spirit. Face to face. There in the room, we are ghosts. Before they leave, which I understand now is no different than before they came, they say.
There is a darkness inside us; you don’t believe me? Close your eyes.
Photography Ibrahem Hasan
Fashion Kelvin Emiliano
Text Niall Power
Talent Clara Mariano, Jota Santos, Vinicius
Published on 11/12/2019