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Fara'a and its refugee camp count 7000 inhabitants. Fara'a is basically a village located between Jenin and Nablus. The refugee camp was created in 1948. Most people come from Jaffa but also Haifa and Led, they planted tents and have waited since that day to come back home. The story is repeating between refugees of here there. Grands-parents and parents suffer from exile, their children continue to dream of this come back and this land who was their. This dream is transmitted since three generations, 1948-2007, almost 60 years of exile and 100 years of occupation. Because before the arrival of Zionists and the creation of Israel, the territory was occupied by the British Empire...

I would like to introduce you to... boys and girls who attend this place daily, they are between 10 and 17 years old and come from the Jenin refugee camp. They invade the theater as of 10am and fortunately that doors stay opened.

Dear friends, First day in Palestine... sorry in the West Bank. I must pay attention to the "words" I use in this text. Meetings during this trip are surprising, sometimes depressing in commited injustice...

Landscapes, roads, faces…still on the road, on to new meetings, other world views? I don’t know anymore and my mind is a little foggy. An adventure is ending, another begins. I am on the borderline between the strong experience I had in Jenin, at the Liberty Theatre, and another world, of the refugee camp of Fa’raa.I feel strangely alone today and prepare myself for the next days. Borders are strange places, they are exact, we can situate them easily on a map or in our feelings, however they are places where we are not here exactly, nor there.

Tonight smells the end of the trip, the end of the holidays. Hebron hotel where we stayed with 80 of us at the beginning is getting empty, tonight I sleep in a dorm almost desert. Depressed after all those days surrounded by people, making so many discoveries, to digest, sometimes contradictory… I had re-gone through the alleyways of Jerusalem that I love so much after 10 days in West Bank. These alleyways where smells of spices mix up with smells of garbage, where we drink tea as soon as meet a souk seller, where we climb up stairs in hot sun of noon because we remained tourists that persist to move during siesta time…