The early morning in the Vieux Port (Old Port) of Marseille is always filled with the salty wetness of the sea breeze and the fishy smell of the fish market. In French classical literature, this was a place that carried the last glimpse of the homeland by those about to travel. It is now crowded with people with various accents, such as fishermen, homeless beggars, prostitutes who have not had time to remove makeup, and tourists from all over the world: Maghrebs, Jews, Gypsies, Indians and Chinese. All different colors were bronzed by the sun of Marseille.

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I pointed my camera at these unfamiliar wanderers and travelers. When the fishermen drenched the ground of the port with the seawater in the bucket, the fine and silvery fish scales blurred the portraits on the water, just as I washed the images with a torrent-like solution in a dark room: the light-sensitive silver halide emitted a faint silver-white luster for the last moment before being reduced to silver particles, and was quickly oxidized by the air to black images, solidifying into the fuzzy images of these strangers.