It was an afternoon when Azdine called me, saying he read my "publicité" and he wanted to participate in my project, since he is an immigrant, he is a father, and that he's got stories to tell. I received him one evening and in the end we had dinner together. He told me stories about his childhood, about his mother, her death, his daughter, her absence, and in the end, the grandchild that he has never met. It wasn't exactly what I expected from an interviewee (which is normally less personal.) He got drunk and left my home at midnight. I painted this portrait the next day from memory. I used his bedsheet as canvas.
