Touareg à Tchin Tabaraden

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I live in a world without vestige where the only trace of my breath remains. The beautiful images of the film recreate the climate, the rhythm of nomadic life in a hostile universe of sand and wind. It goes from the exuberance of laughters in the evening around the tea, when the herds are finally watered, to the silence of the early morning when the gestures are slow, flowing, to save strength and dismantle the heavy skin tents. Goatskins are filled, camels are weighed down, women and babies are installed on their colourful saddles. It is the departure towards a new step. But the head of the family wonders : towards what future ? What about my son, my son's son, my son's son's son ? Will they dream on my erased trace?

• Cultural identity