enilffo raeppa photography
Rene
His eyes, although not seen in this black and white picture, were of the deepest blue- green. They would look at you and change in depth and intensity, drifting from the kind wisdom that 65 years of torment and joy can impregnate you with, and unveil, at times, the shattering brutality of a man who has been to the edge... wolf eyes.
He was born in La Baie James, in northern Quebec. Life took him in many corners of the country from the far west, then drifting through the Northern territories, to the inside of prisons, and to the cold streets of human indifference. His stories, were the ones of life itself. Stories of love and loss, humanity and brutality. At times, as if to make a point, he would reach out towards an imaginary adversary's neck with one hand while the other would transform into a fist ready to strike . It would only take a fraction of a second for the metamorphosis of his eyes to occur, for them to be lit by the fire of violence, the madness of primal survival .
ps.: One last detail came to my mind. When i took this photo, i was less than 8 inches from his face. As I lowered the camera, he looked at me, smiled and said: " You know, it has been weeks since i last saw myself in a mirror"
Ottawa, ON
Rene
His eyes, although not seen in this black and white picture, were of the deepest blue- green. They would look at you and change in depth and intensity, drifting from the kind wisdom that 65 years of torment and joy can impregnate you with, and unveil, at times, the shattering brutality of a man who has been to the edge... wolf eyes.
He was born in La Baie James, in northern Quebec. Life took him in many corners of the country from the far west, then drifting through the Northern territories, to the inside of prisons, and to the cold streets of human indifference. His stories, were the ones of life itself. Stories of love and loss, humanity and brutality. At times, as if to make a point, he would reach out towards an imaginary adversary's neck with one hand while the other would transform into a fist ready to strike . It would only take a fraction of a second for the metamorphosis of his eyes to occur, for them to be lit by the fire of violence, the madness of primal survival .
ps.: One last detail came to my mind. When i took this photo, i was less than 8 inches from his face. As I lowered the camera, he looked at me, smiled and said: " You know, it has been weeks since i last saw myself in a mirror"
Ottawa, ON