On November 28, 2022, I set off on a 1,550 km journey with a fifteen-year-old boy, S., who was at a critical turning point in his life. This was his last chance at reintegration before being placed in a juvenile detention center. With a really small daily budget, we ventured through challenging terrains—from raging rivers to snow-covered mountains—in the heart of winter, spending Christmas and New Year’s on the trail.

The young man was informed that, if he wished, he could stop this experience at any time and return to his previous situation. This path was a literal crossroads—either continue walking or face the consequences of a troubled past. Like many young people marked by difficult life experiences,S. had lived through his own tragedies, and this journey was one of his last chances to break free from them.

The journey tested both of us. It was a closed emotional space—90 days of sharing the physical and mental load of such an intense experience. My feet bled during the journey, and I fought against feelings of loneliness and sadness. In this place of despair, I discovered a confusing tenderness, a way to overcome personal experiences, and connect to a greater understanding of life’s forces.
Photography became a way to capture not only moments of despair but also the resilience and strength that emerged from these challenges.

And I learned that giving and receiving are deeply intertwined: while I documented his battle, I was also profoundly changed by the experience. The legal constraints around photographing a minor under judicial supervision were complex.

While the law requires written consent for the use of a detainee’s image, it does not grant them absolute control over that image. For the Protection Judiciary of Youth, who had S. under their legal protection, his identity had to be erased, his face blurred, even with a written consent from his family.

Yet for me, photographing him was about reclaiming his right to be represented. It was about allowing him to see himself, not as a case number or a blurred figure, but as a person with agency. It is essential to note that my goal is not to highlight the young man’s personal story. I am aware of the stakes of protection and confidentiality surrounding minors, and I took all necessary measures to ensure his rights were respected.

Getting approval to share S.’s face in the photographs was a long process, requiring months of back-and-forth with institutions and legal guardians. Over a year passed before I was able to bring these images to the public. Today, I continue to document S.’s journey, as he transitions back to everyday life, beyond the extraordinary pilgrimage we shared. 

The next chapter of this project will focus on his passage into adulthood, grappling with the uncertainty of a world where stability can feel unreachable, and where fate—like the stars—sometimes seems both guiding and imprisoning.