Mining and iron ore runs in the blood of almost every single citizen coming from the state of Minas Gerais, Brazil - including my own. The smell of burned iron ore is familiar and oddly comfor- ting.
Almost 60 years ago my grandfather started a pig iron processing plant. His endeavor prospered and led to its expansion a few decades later.
My society, my family and I, we are all reflected in the landscape. The prosperity and the dreams of the past are transformed in a ruined economy, the beautiful horizon turned into a decayed and overexploited land.
The place is now left in ruins by my family. There, I find silence and solitude and the photographs are the only witness of my experience. See more.
I found a sheet of negatives from its blooming past. They belong to my family but there is no identity, a past with no date, faceless collaborators and a disintegrated dream.