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  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-20.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-23.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-15.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-06.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-04.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-19.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-18.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-17.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-11.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-10.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-09.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-08.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-05.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-02.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-24.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-22.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-21.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-16.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-14.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-13.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-07.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-01.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-12.JPG
  • They number but ninety-three. Ninety-three out of four hundred. Ninety-three children recovered: 400 children disappeared. A mere handful — but a handful that proves that blood cannot be erased. They, the ninety-three saved from the nightmarish plan of a military dictatorship intent upon annihilating their identity, are living proof that not all can be hidden. Not all can be made to disappear.<br />
<br />
The military regime took power in Argentina on March 24, 1976. Most of the children they kidnapped were taken along with their parents or were born in one of the secret detention centers. The ninety-three who have been found to date were saved through the unceasing battle fought by their families and with the unwavering support of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. Some of these children were simply abandoned. Some were given to families who adopted them without knowing their true identities. Others were kept by the very people who kidnapped their parents. But in all cases the intention was to erase their true identities, to break the family line so that the children would never be like their parents.<br />
<br />
I began to photograph those children, today men and women, in August, 2001. I wanted to show them next to a family member who worked for years to find them. For me, putting these two people in a single image represents the failure of the policy — of the terror — that the military dictatorship tried to impose. These photos attempt to show that lies could not defeat family bonds because the families, and the children themselves, persevered.<br />
<br />
By including a reproduction of a photograph of disappeared parents the two images become a unit, joining the present with the past. The essence of photography is to put what has been together with what is. The text tells us who they are, what happened to them, and how they became who they are today. The three elements — the text, the photo of the present, and the photo of the past — form a triptych that closes part of our history.<br />
<br />
Son a
    LAT01-18-AcosM-A-03.JPG
  • Tegucigalpa, colonia 14 march, unit 103 national police group monitor and patrol a street. In the image police stop clandestine players performing the colony illegal gambling and taken to police station to jail them.<br />
TEGUCIGALPA, COLONIA 14 DE MARZO, UNIDAD 103 DEL GRUPO DE POLICIA NACIONAL VIGILAN Y PATRULLAN UNA CALLE. EN LA IMAGEN LA POLICIA DETIENE A JUGADORES CLANDESTINOS EN LA COLONIA QUE REALIZAN APUESTAS ILEGALES Y SON LLEVADOS A COMISARIA PARA ENCARCELARLOS.
    04-3-Javier-Arcenillas-05.JPG
  • TEGUCIGALPA, COLONIA FLOR DE CAMPO.<br />
UNA CALLE EN LA CUAL VARIAS FAMILIAS HAN SIDO EXTORSIONADAS POR LA MARA 18 CON EL PAGO DEL IMPUESTO DE GUERRA. EN <br />
9. Tegucigalpa, colonia flor country. A street in which several families have been extorted by the mara 18 with tax payment of war. In the image Oscon Armando Ochoa of 82 years has been shot with 7 shots in the shop from his home by members of the mara 18 unpaid war tax.<br />
LA IMAGEN OSCON ARMANDO OCHOA DE 82 AÑOS HA SIDO BALEADO  CON 7 DISPAROS EN LA PULPERIA DE SU CASA POR MIEMBROS DE LA MARA 18 POR IMPAGO DEL IMPUESTO DE GUERRA.
    04-3-Javier-Arcenillas-04.JPG
  • Reception under the program tattooed national extraction exmareros tattoos for social reintegration Ihnfa (Institute honduran children and family) the image of Mara Poter 18<br />
RECEPCION DE TATUADOS ACOGIDOS AL PROGRAMA NACIONAL DE EXTRACCION DE TATUAJES DE EXMAREROS PARA LA REINSERCION SOCIAL EN EL IHNFA ( INSTITUTO HONDUREÑO DE LA NIÑEZ Y LA FAMILIA) EN LA IMAGEN POTER DE LA MARA 18
    04-3-Javier-Arcenillas-02.JPG
  • Reception under the program tattooed national extraction exmareros tattoos for social reintegration Ihnfa (Institute honduran children and family) the image of Mara Poter 18<br />
RECEPCION DE TATUADOS ACOGIDOS AL PROGRAMA NACIONAL DE EXTRACCION DE TATUAJES DE EXMAREROS PARA LA REINSERCION SOCIAL EN EL IHNFA ( INSTITUTO HONDUREÑO DE LA NIÑEZ Y LA FAMILIA) EN LA IMAGEN POTER DE LA MARA 18
    16-HM-Javier-Arcenillas-15.JPG
  • Immigrants arriving back from Mexico through the border post of Corinto on the border of Guatemala and Honduras. In the image immigrants are preparing to embark Honduras way back home, a bus where they have to pay 55 lempiras to reach the first major port city that is cut from where you go to their homes.<br />
<br />
Inmigrantes llegando de regreso desde mexico por el puesto fronterizo de corinto en la frontera de guatemala y Honduras. En la imagen inmigrantes se disponen a emprender camino hacia honduras de regreso a casa, unos en bus donde tienen que pagar 55 lempiras para llegar a la primera gran ciudad que es puerto cortes desde donde se dirigiran a sus hogares.
    16-HM-Javier-Arcenillas-02.JPG
  • Juvenile detention Saul and Walter David Martinez Quilez marijuana in district 1 of Tegucigalpa for possession of marijuana. In the image detainees are beaten by police<br />
DETENCION DE LOS MENORES SAUL QUILEZ Y WALTER  DAVID MARTINEZ MARIHUANA EN EL DISTRITO 1 DE TEGUCIGALPA POR POSESION ILEGAL DE MARIHUANA. EN LA IMAGEN LOS DETENIDOS SON AGREDIDOS POR LA POLICIA
    04-3-Javier-Arcenillas-07.JPG
  • A man sells key chains with the image of the Virgen del Socavon outside the church.
    LAT01-16-RunaKG-A-37.JPG
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