In the Northeast of Brazil I photographed for years. The night assemblies of the MST, the flags, the voices of those who demand what should belong to everyone. I photographed in black and white because this Brazil demands it — the grain of the film, the hard shadows, the strong contrasts. Cocigna, a curandeira, knows the remedies that doctors do not know. A girl in front of a broken mirror. The faces of the dictatorship’s dead — rescued from oblivion, finally with a name. Those who sleep, those who wait, those who shout from a stage at night. A beautiful and merciless country. Desperate and stubbornly alive.