Ishinomaki (Japan), September 11th 2018. A photograph of an archive photo showing the immediate aftermath of the Great East Japan Earthquake and subsequent tsunami in the town of Ishinomaki.

Ishinomaki (Japan), Sept 11th 2018. The remainings of a house erased by the 2011 tsunami.

Kamaishi (Japan), Sept 12th 2018. Temporary house where people displaced by the 2011 tsunami are hosted. As of September 2018, more than 7 years after the 2011 earthquake and tsunami, about 30,000 people are still living in temporary shelters.

Rikuzentakata (Japan), September 13th 2018. Sato Tomoko (73, from Rikuzentakata) poses for a portrait in front of the condo complex where she resides in Rikuzentakata.

The 2011 tsunami erased Rikuzentakata, destroying 582 out of its 600 houses. With the reconstruction, the familiar 1-storey houses were replaced with condo complex like the one in the photograph. Ms. Tomoko was elected by the residents as representative person for the house complex.

Near Rikuzentakata (Japan), September 11th 2018. A spider on his net hanged between two temporary shelter houses.

As of September 2018, more than 7 years after the 2011 earthquake and tsunami, about 30,000 people are still living in temporary shelters.

Ishinomaki (Japan), September 11th 2018. An archive photo of the city before the tsunami, and the city nowadays.

Unosumai (Japan), Sept 13th 2018. A memorial to the victims of the 2011 tsunami.

Rikuzentakata (Japan), Sept 13th 2018. Trucks working on the reconstruction undergoing in the flat land that used to be Rikuzentakata’s city centre before the 2011 earthquake and tsunami.

Kamaishi (Japan), September 12th 2018. Maintenance work in the brand new rugby stadium in Kamaishi, the Recovery Memorial Stadium.

Kamaishi was heavily damaged by the 2011 earthquake and tsunami, which killed 1,250 city residents. The stadium was built to host the upcoming 2019 Rugby World Cup. Both the local authorities and central government supported this infrastructure, and pushed to host the Rugby World Cup as a sign of the rebirth of Tohoku.

Rikuzentakata, September 13th 2018. Reconstruction works undergoing in the flat land that used to be Rikuzentakata’s city centre before the 2011 earthquake and tsunami. In the background the newly built concrete seawall erected by the Japanese government to protect the area for potential future tsunamis.

Watari (Japan), Sept 10th 2018. A stair reaching the top of the old anti-tsunami wall protecting the city. It was not enough to defend it from the 2011 tsunami.

Watari (Japan), September 10th 2018. Megumi Hikichi (50, from Watari) poses for a portrait in the headquarter of Watalis, a project she founded in 2011 after the earthquake and tsunami.

Watari was heavily damaged by the 2011 catastrophe: more then half of the town was flooded and the local economy (based on fishing and agriculture) suffered huge losses. Ms. Hikichi’s project, Watalis, recycles old “kimonos” (typical dresses donated from all over Japan) to create small bags called “fuguro”.

Near Sanriku (Japan), September 13th 2018. The newly built 12.5 metres high seawall constructed by the Japanese government to protect the area for a potential future Tsunami. Some 395 km of walls have been built along the cost of Tohoku, at a cost of 1.35 trillion yen ($12.74 billion).

Rikuzentakata, September 13th 2018. Reconstruction works undergoing in the flat land that used to be Rikuzentakata’s city centre before the 2011 earthquake and tsunami. In the background the newly built concrete seawall erected by the Japanese government to protect the area for potential future tsunamis.

Kamaishi (Japan), Sept 12th 2018. A man walking near the newly built sea wall, erected by the government to protect the city from possible future tsunamis.

Kamaishi (Japan), September 12th 2018. A sign placed on the wall of a local factory marks the height reached by the tsunami waves in Kamaishi on the 11th march 2011.

Unosumai (Japan), September 12th 2018. The newly built 12.5 metres high seawall constructed by the Japanese government to protect the area for a potential future Tsunami. Some 395 km of walls have been built along the cost of Tohoku, at a cost of 1.35 trillion yen ($12.74 billion).

Unosumai (Japan), September 12th 2018. Mr. Ryokawa (77, from Unosumai) poses for a portrait while looking at the ocean in Otsuchi bay.

The 2011 tsunami hit the building where he used to live in Unusumai, and flooded it up to the 2nd floor. His house was at the 3rd floor. He survived by reaching the rooftop and waiting 2 days for the rescuers’ helicopter to come.

Near Watari (Japan), September 10th 2018. Even though an ordinance dating back to the immediate earthquake aftermath still forbids bathing in the ocean along the coast of Tohoku, a man swims close the newly build seawall near the town of Watari.

Tokyo (Japan), September 2018. At dusk, a father and his child play on a swing in a children’s playground in Tokyo. 

Japan is internationally considered the “black hole” of parental child abduction: in Japan, every year, an estimated 150,000* parents face the tragedy of having their children abducted by their partner. Currently, the Japanese judicial system does not contemplate the joint custody in case of separation, and most of the lawsuit eventually filed by the left-behind fathers do not lead to a result in their favour. *Data: Kizuna Child-Parent Reunion.

Gianluca (43, from Cagliari – Italy), walks home from work with his bike. At the end of 2014, his Japanese wife left with their baby and never came back. He last saw his son in September 2015.

In his mini apartment in the outskirts of Tokyo, Gianluca (43, from Cagliari – Italy) packs his bag; the day after he will travel to Hokkaido (far North Japan) to attend a scheduled visit with his son. Nobody will show up, just as nobody did in the last 5 scheduled visits.

Gianluca (43, from Cagliari – Italy), poses for a portrait in a children’s playground near his house in the outskirts of Tokyo. At the end of 2014, his Japanese wife left with their baby and never came back. He last saw his son in September 2015.

An archive family photo depicting Gianluca (43, from Cagliari – Italy) feeding his baby. The archive photo was taken just days before his Japanese wife left with the baby and completely cut him off from their lives.

In his mini apartment in the outskirts of Tokyo, Gianluca (43, from Cagliari – Italy) watch the news on TV; the day after he will travel to Hokkaido (far North Japan) to attend a scheduled visit with his son. Nobody will show up, just as nobody did in the last 5 scheduled visits.

A teddy bear holding a red rose hangs by its neck from a broken swing in a children playground in central Tokyo. A group of teenagers hanged it minutes before. Japan is globally considered the “black hole” of child abduction: every year nearly 150.000 parents are pushed away from their children’s life by their partners.

After seven years of life in Germany, Pierluigi (fictional name – he preferred to remain anonymous) moved to Tokyo with his Japanese wife and their two children (1 and 3 at the time). It was September 2015. Only two months after, his wife left with their children and never came back. The legal battle he started for his right to visit and custody has only led to partial results. In the last three years, Pierluigi has been forced away from his children for 17 months.

A photo of two red children toys belonging to Pierluigi (fictional name). Pierluigi bought these toys for his two children when his family was still living together, in Germany. After moving to Japan, his wife took the children away for good. He now keeps the two toys as one of the few tangibles memories he has of his children.

A group of statues in Tokyo, (Japan) representing Jizō, the protector of children, women and travellers.

A woman sitting alone in an office building in Tokyo (Japan) at the end of her working day.

Klaus (fictional name) was living in London and was married to a Japanese woman. At the end of 2015 his (then) wife left with their daughter for a visit to her family in Japan. When she came back, she was alone. She packed her stuff and left again, for good. After long legal proceedings, in December 2016 a court sentence established his right to a regular visit schedule with the daughter, but his (now) ex-wife is not complying with it. Since then, he was only allowed sporadic Skype contacts and few short visits.

A photo of a painting made by the daughter of Klaus (fictional name). Klaus’s daughter painted it in her first months, before being abducted by his (then) wife. It is one of the few tangible memories he has got left of his daughter.

A young student in the streets of Tokyo. Japan is globally considered the “black hole” of child abduction: every year nearly 150.000 parents are pushed away from their children’s life by their partners.

The Family Court, in Tokyo, Japan. This is the building where most of the procedings regarding child custody and family disputes take place.

Akira poses for a portrait in a children’s playground near his office in central Tokyo. Akira’s daughter was taken away from him by his ex-wife in 2012. After having been denied any contact for two years, he is currently divorced and reached an agreement with the ex-wife to see his daughter once a month for 3 hours.

A walnut stored in a small glass bottle. The walnut belonged to Akira’s daughter. She gave it to him as a gift the first time he was able to see her, two years after she was taken away by his ex-wife. He decided to store it and keep it as a memory of that moment.

The historical building of the Ministry of Justice of Japan, and the new building in the back. The Ministry of Justice and the Japanese government were recently under international pressure to tackle the issue of child abduction in Japan.

Mitsuru (43, from Inukai – Japan, at the head of the table) leads a meeting of K-Net, an association advocating for the right to joint custody in Japan. Also at the table, several fathers who had their children abducted by their partners and are looking for advice on their cases.

Mitsuru (43, from Inukai – Japan), poses for a portrait in a children’s playground in central Tokyo. After his two daughters were taken away from him by his partner after their separation, Mitsuru decided to found K-Net, an association advocating for the right to joint custody in Japan.

An archive family photo depicting Mitsuru (43, from Inukai – Japan) with his two daughters. The archive photo was taken in the first occasion he was able to see them again, two years and a half after his partner took them away.

Mitsuru (43, from Inukai – Japan), on the PA speaker during a rally organized in front of a subway station in Tokyo by K-Net, an association advocating for the right to joint custody in Japan. Mitsuru founded K-Net in 2009, after his partner (also Japanese) abducted their two daughters.

A woman and a man, reflected in a puddle, walk in opposite directions in a street of Tokyo. Japan is globally considered the “black hole” of child abduction in case of separation: every year nearly 150,000 parents are cut off from their children’s life by their partners.

Taro (51, from Tokyo – Japan) poses for a portrait in a children’s playground in Tokyo. It was a spring evening of 2015 when Taro was preparing dinner at home, waiting for his (then) wife to come home with their son. They never did. Since then, he was able to see his son once, in a room with one-way mirrors.

A mobile phone with an archive family photo depicting Taro (51, from Tokyo – Japan) with his child in a park in Tokyo. His wife took the photo and he posted it on his Instagram account. In 2015, his wife (also Japanese) left with their children and never came back.

The Italian Embassy in Tokyo. In March 2018, The Italian ambassador, supported by the other EU ambassadors in Japan, issued a formal letter to the Japanese government, to put pressure and force it to tackle the issue of parental child abductions.

Tommaso (40, from Verona – Italy) during an appointment with his lawyer. They are discussing the next legal steps to take in the 2 civil suits he filed against his Japanese wife for abducting his children in December 2016.

Tommaso (40, from Verona – Italy), poses for a portrait in a children’s playground near his house in suburban Tokyo. In December 2016, his Japanese wife left with their two children and never came back. Since then, he has been able to see them in total for 5 hours in the first 6 months, and not a single time in the last year.

An archive family photo depicting Tommaso (40, from Verona – Italy) with his wife and two children. 
The archive photo was taken in December 2016 in a restaurant in Tokyo, just days before his Japanese wife left with the children and completely cut him off from their lives.

Tommaso (40, from Verona – Italy), is one of the estimated 150,000 fathers per year who, in Japan, face the tragedy of having their children abducted by their partner.

Left: 1967, Right: 2018.
An aerial view of Kathmandu from Swayambhu temple.

Left: 1975, Right: 2018.
Kathmandu, along Kanti Path avenue.

Left: 1975, Right: 2018.
A view of the Bir Hospital building.

Left: 1965, Right: 2018.
New Road Gate in Kathmandu.

Left: 1974, Right: 2018.
Along New Road in Kathmandu.

Kathmandu (Nepal), October 21st 2018. An aerial view of Kathmandu from Swayambhu temple, compared with the exact same view on an archive photo from 1967 (courtesy of PC Nepal Photo Project / Nepal Picture Library).

Green spaces have been urbanized, and mountains are no longer visible due to the smog covering the city.

Kathmandu (Nepal), October 12th 2018. An informal bus stop in one of the busiest areas of Kathmandu, Chabahil.

Kathmandu (Nepal), October 12th 2018. Heavy traffic at the Koteshwor junction, one of the main crossroads of Kathmandu. In the background, an airplane prepares for landing at the nearby international airport.

Kathmandu (Nepal), October 14th 2018. Wearing a mask to prevent his nose and mouth to breathe polluted air, Narayan Dahal (63) poses for a portrait in the busy Kalanki area of Kathmandu.

“I have a health problem caused by the pollution. My nose is dry, I suffer from headaches and my lungs are not well. So I am using a mask to protect myself from dust.” Says Mr. Dahal.

Kathmandu (Nepal), October 8th 2018. Heavy traffic on Kanti Path, one of the main avenues of Kathmandu.

Kathmandu (Nepal), October 18th 2018. Inside a local bus providing service in the metropolitan area of Kathmandu.

Costing as little as 10-20 US$ cents, public and informal mass transportation in Kathmandu is as affordable in price as very inefficient and unreliable in terms of coverage and punctuality.

Kathmandu (Nepal), October 14th 2018. Using a scarf to prevent her nose and mouth to breathe polluted air, Sunita Tamang (35) poses for a portrait while attending a shop in the busy Kalanki area of Kathmandu.

“The air quality here is not good. I’ve been in this shop for two years now, and my health is suffering: I’m constantly getting colds and sore throat. And who knows what problems I’ll suffer in the future.”, says Ms. Tamang.

Patan, greater Kathmandu (Nepal), October 1st 2018. A pedestrian and a traffic policeman in the middle of a busy avenue in the metropolitan area of Kathmandu.

Kathmandu (Nepal), October 14th 2018. People walking through one of the busiest crossing in Kathmandu, in the Kalanki area. Dust and smoke are clearly visible in the air, and most of the people are covering their mouth with masks or scarfs.

Kathmandu (Nepal), October 7th 2018. A courtyard in the centre of Kathmandu, surrounded by tall buildings and filled by motorbikes.

The fast urbanization process undergone in Kathmandu in the last 5 decades has eaten up free spaces in the city and the surrounding valley.

Kathmandu (Nepal), October 14th 2018. Wearing a mask to prevent his nose and mouth to breath polluted air, the Buddhist monk Pasang Thunglu (29) poses for a portrait in the busy Kalanki area of Kathmandu.

“When I used to come to Kathmandu as a kid, the air quality was not bad. But when I came back after a long time, in 2015, the air was unbreathable, very dusty. The earthquake made things worse, because now there are lots of construction sites in town, which are also creating a lot of dust.”, says Mr. Thunglu.

Kathmandu (Nepal), October 8th 2018. A horse belonging to the metropolitan traffic police of Kathmandu surrounded by heavy traffic on Kanti Path, one of the busiest traffic avenues in Nepal’s capital city.

Kathmandu (Nepal), October 24th 2018. A young boy selling cotton candy sits surrounded by heavy traffic at one of the busiest crossings in Kathmandu: Koteshwor. In the background, an aircraft prepares for landing at the nearby international airport.

Kathmandu (Nepal), October 14th 2018. Using a scarf to prevent her nose and mouth to breath polluted air, Shamiskha Karki (18) poses for a portrait inside her family’ shop in the busy Kalanki area of Kathmandu.

“Not protecting your lungs is dangerous here. If we don’t do that, in one or two years we will get sick. After the [2015] earthquake things got worse due to the dust provoked by the reconstruction works”, says Ms. Karki.

Patan, greater Kathmandu (Nepal), October 1st 2018. A cow at the edge of a busy avenue in the metropolitan area of Kathmandu.

Kathmandu (Nepal), October 14th 2018. One of the main highways connecting Kathmandu to the rest of Nepal at Kalanki junction. The road dust, caused by the vehicles as a result of the poor road conditions, is clearly visible along the highway path.

Kathmandu (Nepal), October 24th 2018. Wearing a mask to prevent her nose and mouth to breath polluted air, Sarswati Karki (41) poses for a portrait in the busy Koteshwor area of Kathmandu.

“I’m wearing a mask to protect me from dust and potential infections. I’m already suffering from frequent colds, my eyes burn and I’m afraid of getting lung diseases in the future.”, says Ms. Karki.

A photograph of a pollution mask used in Kathmandu (Nepal) during two days in October 2018. The dirt caused by dust and smoke is clearly visible in the upper-left part of the mask.

Patan, greater Kathmandu (Nepal), October 5th 2018. In a craftsman’ showroom, the face of Goddess Tara’ statue is wrapped with newspapers to prevent dust from ruining the freshly painted details.

Kathmandu (Nepal), October 14th 2018. An aerial view of Kathmandu from Swayambhu temple. The smog covering the city is clearly visible.

Life goes on: an asylum seeker who is pregnant, is waiting for her case to be processed so she can move on from the camp in Settimo Torinese (Italy) where she is currently hosted. Here portrayed at the entrance of her tent.

The Italian Red Cross ‘Fenoglio’ camp in Settimo Torinese (Italy) seen from above.

Initially meant as a temporary camp for asylum seekers waiting to be quickly redirected to more permanent accommodations, it has become a semi-permanent accommodation where asylum seekers stay for months due to the lack of other accommodations in the area.

Honest (39, from Nigeria), here portrayed in his room in a reception centre in Bergamo (Italy), was rescued with more than other hundred migrants on a dinghy adrift in the Mediterranean sea.

“I could not se outside [the dinghy] but only up because I was lying on the floor. I was praying, crying, shouting… ‘Jeeesus’! I was not myself, I was just in spirit…

When my head calmed down [after the rescue] I looked at the sea around me and at my boat, now empty… in that moment I started crying… from that moment I believe in God!”

A woman washes her clothes in the camp where she is hosted in Settimo Torinese (Italy). This Red Cross camp, built with tents from the Italian Civil protection can host, depending on the situation, up to 500-600 people.

Alhagie (44, from Gambia) portrayed in his room at a reception centre in Messina (Italy). A former Gambian soldier, Alhagie left his country in early 2016 and reached Italy after leaving Libya on a dinghy.

“I think a lot about my family, that’s my main concern. I left a wife and four kids in Gambia and it is almost three weeks that I’m not able to speak to them”.

Italian language lesson in a reception camp in Settimo Torinese (Italy).

Language courses, together with food, accommodation and a small amount of pocket money are the basic commodities granted to asylum seekers in Italy, while they wait for as long as 2 years for their cases to be processed.

Prince (33, from Nigeria), portrayed in a reception centre for asylum seekers in Bergamo (Italy).

He fled his country to find a cure for a chest problem, and he is now undergoing a treatment in Italy. He reached Italy after having been rescued from a dinghy adrift in the Mediterranean sea. He quickly became very popular in the reception centre, as he decided to open his own bike repair workshop in the centre’s premises.

Daily activities in a reception centre in the Bergamo province (Italy).

Hosted in Vedeseta, a mountain village with a population of 215 people, this centre hosts around 35 asylum seekers who are self-managing all the basic activities of the centre: cooking, cleaning, gardening, etc.

Joy (18, from Nigeria) portrayed in a reception centre in Messina (Italy).

She lost a close friend at sea, while attempting to reach Italy on boat an inflatable dinghy with other 190 people. After drifting for 18 hours somewhere in the Mediterranean, her friend was one of the 25 people who tragically drowned in the melee when a rescue boat was sighted.

In a Catholic church in Bergamo (Italy), an asylum seeker hosted in a nearby reception centre takes a photograph.

The disposable camera he is using has been provided by local photography students who are teaching a workshop in photography in the centre as part of their final school work.

Mohammed (21, Gambia), at work at ‘Settimo Miglio’ organic farm in Settimo Torinese (Italy).

The farm employs asylum seekers and refugees hosted at the local reception camp. Mohammed has worked on the farm for five months as an intern – earning around 600 Euro a month. He is hoping that his internship will lead to full employment.

Moses (37, from Ghana) photographed in a reception centre in Messina (Italy). The scar in his face dates back to the 2 years he spent in Libya.

“They tied me after I tried to escape [from a smugglers detention centre], and they hung me up so that my legs were not reaching the ground. Then they mercilessly beat me with pipes. […]

They starve you, they attack you for so many days, so that you’ll be willing to pay a ransom for you release. Or else if they get any of their partners who is willing to buy, they sell! they sell human beings there!”.

Two asylum seekers observe the surroundings from the terrace of the local reception centre where they are hosted in Vedeseta, a mountain village in the Bergamo area (Italy).

During the 2-year wait for their international protection applications to be processed, asylum seekers in Italy are distributed according to the places available in numerous reception centres nationwide.

Those centres can be as small as the one in Vedeseta (35 guests) or huge as the one in Mineo (Sicily) that hosts up to 4,000 asylum seekers.

Mercy (30, Nigeria) in a temporary house for asylum seekers in Bergamo (Italy).

Living in this apartment with her husband Abdulai and the newly born daughter Fareeda, Mercy fled her hometown in Nigeria after her house was set on fire by enemies of her family.

On her right arm are still visible the severe burns provoked by the fire.

Asylum seekers play soccer in a reception camp in Settimo Torinese (Italy).

The vast majority of asylum seekers in Italy are male (89%), since the journey from the country of origin and through Libya is by many considered too dangerous for women.

As highlighted by a 2017 report from Amnesty international “refugees and migrants are routinely exposed in Libya […] to grave human rights violations and abuses including killings, torture, rape, kidnappings, forced labour, and arbitrary detention in cruel, inhuman and degrading conditions.”

Khurram Shahzad (33, from Pakistan) portrayed in a temporary house for asylum seekers in Modena (Italy).

A homeopathic doctor back in Pakistan, now he is employed as a seasonal worker in a factory in Modena. “I’m married and I have 2 child, 7 and 6 years old. I’d like to bring them here if my asylum request is accepted”

An asylum seeker on his phone in a reception centre in Bergamo (Italy).

Andrea Ostinelli, a social worker in the same centre says: “Having to wait as long as 2 years, I think the reason why many guys spend their days sleeping or on their phone watching music videos is the lack of personal fulfilment. You see many of them here and you can tell that their strength is missing. They miss… they are powerless. It is a pity to see people reduced to this… I think they are not fulfilled as human beings. They are not human beings here.”

Fosiyo (37, from Somalia) poses for a portrait in a temporary house for refugees in Modena (Italy).

She spent several months in an Egyptian prison after being caught at sea on her first attempt to reach Italy by boat. After being released, on her second attempt at sea she managed to reach Italy on August 2016 after sailing for 16 days on board a boat with other 340 migrants.

The Mediterranean is the most lethal migration scenario in the world: more than 15,000 deaths between January 2014 and October 2017 (source: IOM), an average of 10 people a day.

A young asylum seekers hosted in a reception centre in Formigine, near Modena (Italy), during his workout session in a nearby park.

An asylum seeker lying on his bunk bed in a reception centre in Bergamo (Italy).

Of the over 500,000 migrants who reached Italy embarking from Libya since 2014, around 270,000 thousands filed an asylum request, and as of the end of 2016 around 100,000 are waiting for a decision on their status. This volume of requests, combined with the endemic slowness of the Italian judicial system, has prolonged the waiting time to roughly 2 years.

Abass (28, Togo), portrayed in a reception centre in Bergamo (Italy) out in the patio (left) and in his room (right).

He tells that he fled his country due to political unrest that led to a violent strike in his university. In Libya he was held in a house in Saba with other migrants. There they were working without being paid and were given very scarce food.

“We, the blacks, have become like slaves in Libya”, he added.

Asylum seekers during the Muslim afternoon prayer in a reception centre in Vedeseta, in the Bergamo province (Italy).

Formerly a mountain residence for Catholic nuns, the house hosting them has been converted to reception centre only in recently.

Yakaub (23, from Mali) and his wife Fatima (20, also from Mali) portrayed inside their tent in a reception camp in Settimo Torinese (Italy).

With their first child expected in a couple of months and their asylum request still to be processed, they hope the Italian authorities will be able to provide them with a more appropriate accommodation soon.

With more than 35 millions inhabitants and a 1.9 trillion US$ GDP, Tokyo is the world’s most populous metropolitan area and largest urban economy. In its crowded streets and through its massive transportation system, a multitude of employees in dark suits commutes between the city’s suburban areas and business districts. Silent, discreet and with a strong work ethic instilled since childhood, the office workers are best known in Japan as “salarymen”. Thanks to their strict discipline and long working hours they have become one of the pillars of the country’s economy. They are Japan’s quiet army.

A salaryman reads a manga magazine during his commute on a subway train bound for central Tokyo.

Oct 27th 2017. Reactions in the streets of Barcelona, as the Catalan parliament declares Catalonia an independent republic.

Barcelona, Oct 2nd. Students and other parts of the Catalan civil society participate in a rally to condemn the violence and brutality used by the Spanish police to repress the independence referendum that took place the day before.

Oct 27th 2017. Reactions in the streets of Barcelona, as the Catalan parliament declares Catalonia an independent republic.