They are shadows in engraved silhouettes, they are repositories of their past that is their own for their own lives, they are children of diverse cultures bringing common debts into their blood. They are the others and the myth of the others, they are under sign and word. They are the illegal, the black, the woman, the Muslim, the Jew, the Christian, all are migrants and all are completed by otherness. He who never becomes in others, never becomes himself.
They are undocumented woodcuts, woodcuts and characters from popular life. They express the paradox of what they are and are not. The question is, who are they, where are they going, where are they from and if they have a future; as if the future existed and belonged to them. Where they will arrive; Eat it, Macondo, a place in the spot whose name they no longer remember. These are undocumented, no country, no passport, no social security, no name, they are ghosts that are looking for their father.