Here is the transcript:
OK… In November, 2007, I'd taken vacation days to volunteer and mentor (= conseiller, guider) Asian students in a free photography workshop (= atelier de photographie gratuit) in Siem Reap, Cambodia. As I wandered (= Alors que je déambulais, que je me promenais dans) the streets, a small child approached me with a baby in his arms. He had piercing brown eyes and a face that will never leave my mind, as he pleaded for one dollar: "Please, one dollar, Madame! Please, please, please! For my baby!" The relief organizations (= les associations à but humanitaire) make clear that such donations on the street often line the pockets of exploiters (= vont remplir les poches des profiteurs,/exploiteurs), rather than put food into the mouths of the exploited. But my heart went out to the boy. I gave him the dollar and watched the smile split his face. That little face still haunts me… so does (= de même que) the face of Mohamed, a malnourished toddler (= un tout-petit mal nourri) I photographed with a few grains of rice in hand, in Mali, West Africa, three years earlier… and so does the face of ten-year-old Derek, who I photographed moving skeleton-like through his home (= qui se déplaçait tel un squelette dans sa maison) in California as he battled neuroblastoma, a rare form of childhood cancer…
The searing power these faces and the emotions behind them make me the documentary photojournalist I am (= Ces visages et les émotions qu'ils cachent laissent une empreinte permanente sur moi ; cela fait de moi la journaliste - documentariste que je suis). Without these feelings, I could not record the intimate human emotions and the stories I am going to show you. For me, photography isn't a profession. It goes much, much deeper than that. I have an innate curiosity that drives me beyond the obvious.
OK… In November, 2007, I'd taken vacation days to volunteer and mentor (= conseiller, guider) Asian students in a free photography workshop (= atelier de photographie gratuit) in Siem Reap, Cambodia. As I wandered (= Alors que je déambulais, que je me promenais dans) the streets, a small child approached me with a baby in his arms. He had piercing brown eyes and a face that will never leave my mind, as he pleaded for one dollar: "Please, one dollar, Madame! Please, please, please! For my baby!" The relief organizations (= les associations à but humanitaire) make clear that such donations on the street often line the pockets of exploiters (= vont remplir les poches des profiteurs,/exploiteurs), rather than put food into the mouths of the exploited. But my heart went out to the boy. I gave him the dollar and watched the smile split his face. That little face still haunts me… so does (= de même que) the face of Mohamed, a malnourished toddler (= un tout-petit mal nourri) I photographed with a few grains of rice in hand, in Mali, West Africa, three years earlier… and so does the face of ten-year-old Derek, who I photographed moving skeleton-like through his home (= qui se déplaçait tel un squelette dans sa maison) in California as he battled neuroblastoma, a rare form of childhood cancer…
The searing power these faces and the emotions behind them make me the documentary photojournalist I am (= Ces visages et les émotions qu'ils cachent laissent une empreinte permanente sur moi ; cela fait de moi la journaliste - documentariste que je suis). Without these feelings, I could not record the intimate human emotions and the stories I am going to show you. For me, photography isn't a profession. It goes much, much deeper than that. I have an innate curiosity that drives me beyond the obvious.