Our story

This is a documentary in which people tell their stories on the black background wall.

In the film, there is no fancy editing, no introduction to the identity of the interviewee, and no narration.

The well-known French photographer Jan Altis-Bertrand spent 3 years visiting 60 countries around the world, allowing 2020 people of different skin colors, races and genders to tell their stories in front of the camera.

A young black man who was serving his sentence said:
I remember that my stepfather always beat me with wires, boards and other things. As he beat it, he said, “It hurts in my heart to beat you. I beat you because I love you.” This conveyed the wrong meaning of love to me. So, for many years, I thought love is hurt. I hurt everyone I love, and I measure the degree of love by the strength of hurting them. Until I went to jail and came to this place where there is no love.

I met a person-Agnes, she understood my past unfortunate experience, she let me appreciate the true meaning of love for the first time. I was serving a sentence in jail-life imprisonment, because I committed the heinous murder, I murdered a mother and son, and Agnes was Patricia’s mother and Chris’ grandmother whom I murdered. She taught me a perfect lesson, telling me what love is. Anyway, she should hate me, but she doesn’t. After the torment of time, the long pain, and the end full of surprises, she gave me love and she taught me what love is.

Bruno, who travels the world in a wheelchair, said:
Since getting in a wheelchair and setting out to travel the world, I began to learn to observe life from different angles, began to accept reality, and face the future calmly. I have lost a leg physically, but at the same time I have become more insightful and better at listening. Although my body is disabled, I feel very lucky. Because I no longer have too many complaints and doubts about life, I can swim in life.

If God suddenly appeared in front of me and said to me: “Bruno, I can return your leg, but I will take away everything you have learned in 13 years.” I will tell him: “Then you take your leg. Keep it.”

A little Syrian boy said:
I am not afraid of death. If I die for my father’s sake, I am not afraid.

If my father didn’t die, then I would be afraid of death, but now, I am not afraid. I can go to accompany my father, what’s so scary about me?

A Jewish woman said:
A German officer, wearing a SS uniform, entered the Jewish quarter on a rainy night. My mother said to him: “Please take my daughter out!” She raised her hand over the barbed wire and handed her child, that is, me, a two and a half year old Jewish girl, to him, one dressed in SS Reliable man in uniform. He hid me in his coat, then took me to the border of Debord and gave me to his parents as if I were his biological daughter until the end of the war.

I sometimes ask myself, if I were in such an environment, would I also use my only life for another person’s life?

A teenage girl said:
When I was 12 years old, I ran away from my grandfather’s house in order to stop being abused. I wandered on the streets, struggling to make a living, but I could only keep going and try to become independent.

The most painful thing in my life is the death of my father. My father once told me: “It’s nothing terrible to fall, you just need to stand up again. If you fall, stand up again and never admit defeat.”

If I had been living in the past and wasting time on crying, I would be very painful and extreme. I force myself to learn how to live and how to smile, because it is useless to live in the past, but to live in the present.