In·shal·lah - If Allah wills it.

We wait patiently, as our bodies are divided by an ocean of bureaucracy. We wait for the moment our heads reunite with our bodies, forming the whole; reunited as two bodies physically standing in front of each other. Inshallah, he says.

I met Khalil in his home country, Morocco. We dream of the day he is granted permission to enter the United States. Of daily life and the routine of waking up next to each other. We dream of the moment we can start our lives, together. Inshallah, he says.

We connect daily to ease the burden of time but my phone tells me we have a “poor connection” or that we are “reconnecting”. I laugh and wait until we connect again. I tell him he will be here soon. Inshallah.

I embrace the phrase Inshallah as it challenges my perception of time. A perception that was shaped by the instant and readymade culture I live in. Waiting, diminished to a push of a button. And now, waiting as holy.

These images represent fragments of waiting, dreaming and connecting.

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