The photo was taken at dusk, mid-September. As we were trying to catch a ride to the border. We: a small group of Syrians on the outskirts of the transit camp of Kanjiza who had spent the day together, thinking about the best way to cross to the Other side. I am neither Syrian nor did I want to get to the Other side yet - it happened to be my mother's homeland - but at this point, tired, dirty, thirsty as we were, I felt distinctly, instinctively as a "We". We didn't get any additional information at the camp and had almost lost each other in the chaos. After getting out of there - the smell of shit, the litter, the taxi drivers surrounded every few minutes by other groups eager to get the fastest possible to the border -,we had started to walk with a long line of others. We didn't walk long - tired and nervous, our small group soon came to a halt. A few cars stopped, but the drivers asked for 100 euros for the fifteen minute journey - even given the circumstances, a price we wouldn't pay.
We were sitting on the side of the road trying to catch a ride to the border. Some of us were signaling to the cars. N - and I sat down by the roadside. He had been a writer, a filmmaker before the war - we started talking about the books we loved. N- then asked about my camera; I handed it over to him and he took two photos of me. After the first shot, he asked "How can I make the background more blurry ?" I gave him some advice and hope the final result is blurry enough.