In Hamlet in Harar two stories are mixed together. The bloody Italian fascist campaign in Ethiopia, and the story of Hamlet, my grandfather, who emigrated to Harar as a settler. Both of the two stories, the one of my family and the one of the Italian campaign in Africa, are shrouded in silence and oblivion. Mixing images from family albums, with photos found in newspapers from the fascist period and from nowadays, I try to bring out of oblivion an uncomfortable history that Italy has tried to forget and remove, omitting historical faults and responsibilities towards African people.

My stay in Brazil helped me to decrypt the memory of the history of colonialism.
A history that, like that of Ethiopia, led to the domination and elimination of cultures and lives. A violence that leaves clear traces in the colonized and is capable of crossing the lives of the colonizers, who realize that in the midst of so much blood and pain there is no conquest, only death. Hamlet at the age of forty decided to renounce his life, putting an end to the tragic life of conquest, which does not recognize the other in itself.