In December of 2001 I took a trip to Tunisia. Unknowingly to me it would be my last trip before being diagnosed with MS. I was very nervous going on this trip and the anxiety was only exacerbated when I arrived in Tunisia and they had lost my luggage. I was leaving the next morning on a tour so I couldn’t wait for my backpack. I had to choose. I chose to leave the bag behind and I ended up travelling across Tunisia with only my purse (messenger bag type purse), my CD player (and mix), my toothbrush, my wallet, my passport, my camera and some film. In the end, that’s all I needed. It was very symbolic for me. This obstacle made me stronger, it made me leave behind many types of things. My distractions, my desires, my obsessions, my safety net of sorts. I had nothing, and I was in the middle of nowhere, and I was scared, but I had everything I truly needed, I had my camera. I was so attached to it. I loved the feel of it hanging around my neck, the feel of the lens in my hand, the tranquility when I looked through the viewfinder. It’s just me, the camera and what I’m looking at. Nothing else exist.

If needed, I washed my clothes in my hotel room at night and hoped it would be dry in the morning. I saw beautiful sunsets, from beautiful locations. But what I remember most is the Sahara. Not my clothes, not even the music I was listening too. The Sahara , which I spent on top of a camel from early in the day right into the sunset. I remember endless amounts of sand, different shades of yellow, and the sky slowly changing colours. I may not have been able to fully appreciate the moment at the time (sitting on a camel is very uncomfortable), but it remains as one of the most significantly colourful moments in my life. And of course I had my camera but only a few shots left (I only had a 35mm SLR back then). So I had to make every shot count. Which I did….