Algeria was my fourth destination, and my family and I lived there for two and a half years. I arrived knowing very little about the country and, as often happens when you move so many times, at first everything feels a little strange: the streets, the smells, the sounds, the unspoken rules, and even the way you shop for groceries.

I lived near the Mediterranean, so the sea was always present. There were also the mountains, crowded markets, seagulls, the heat, and Friday prayers. And, although it may be hard to imagine, the Sahara is part of the same country. That mix of landscapes and ways of life fascinated me most.

Arabic and French are both spoken, and hearing the two languages blend into the same conversation was an everyday experience. Daily life also had something very particular about it: buying bread, going to the market, taking the kids to school, getting to know the neighbours, getting a little lost, and finding your way back.

I was there as a mother, as a foreigner, and also as a photographer. My camera became a good excuse to look more closely. I photographed the things I came across: people, streets, houses, markets, landscapes, and small moments that may have seemed insignificant at the time, but are precisely the things I remember most today.

Algeria was not a postcard. It was home for two and a half years. It was learning how to live somewhere else, getting used to new things, and discovering that, after a while, the unfamiliar can also become everyday life.

These photographs are a little bit of that: fragments of a life that took place there.