Bayan Dahdah | May 20 2016
These images were taken at my grandmother’s house in Amman. She passed away last August, and the week that I was there was the week in which the deal had been closed on selling her house, which she has lived in for over half a century. All that was left behind was absence; the gaping vacuum of her presence in every corner of that house.
The room in which my mother held her graduation party, and the same room that she stepped out of to go to her wedding.
Where my mother, aunts, uncles and grandparents hid for days on end during the Black September war in Jordan, in the early 70s. It was at the centre of the house, and therefore the safest.
Even the famed pickle jars were empty.
The tree my uncle planted.
The view from across the house.
The basement in which my family helped hide 3 Palestinian soldiers during the Black September war.
The terrace that witnessed countless conversations, cigarettes and coffees.
Umm Waleed, a friend of my grandmother’s.
Bayan Dahdah is a Palestinian architect turned filmmaker, with some photographs in between, and based in Doha, Qatar. With either her head in the clouds or her body at the ocean floor, she’s always got a camera in hand. She is also currently working on her first short film, but you can follow her semi-adventures on twitter, instagram, and her website, or you can read her articles here.