In November 1998, I travelled to Mauritania on a flight from Marseille destination north of the country, to the town of Atar. I did not know what you'd find: just that I could not identify myself as a journalist and that was not allowed to take photographs.

During a month I lived with the natives and travelled with them in their precarious transports, first from Atar to Nouakchott, from Nouakchott to Nouhadibou in the Atlantic border with the Western Sahara, and then to Zouerat, the largest city in the north, aboard the train that transports iron ore from Fderîck mines, considered one of the largest in the world. Back in Atar, I left towards Chinguitti, the mythical city of the desert, once obligatory passage point for caravans crossing the Sahara.