His name was Marek. And he had been walking for a very long time -across Southern Europe towards a camp for Displaced Persons in Italy, to start a new life – somewhere not in Europe. But he had survived, and now he was walking to a new life. There’s a checkpoint up ahead and he can’t tell, he is very weak, he is afraid to get caught behind Russian lines, and he spoke neither English or Russian. He sees a woman – Liba was auburn haired and beautiful, Romanian woman, just turned 22, having survived the labor camps of Transnistria, in the Ukraine, and she knew many languages, including one Marek still could remember how to speak after the horrors. She knew yiddish. Her language ability came down through generations of wanderers – from ancient Judea, as diaspora through the Arab lands and to the Carpathean Mountains, where the Romanian language stands alone among the Slavic and Ukrainian surroundings, as a link to the other Romance languages – Italian, French, Spanish, Latin. Her knowledge of Latin had already saved her in the forests of the Ukraine. The language of Marek’s lineage, from the Roman trade routes to Judea, through Spain, and then a series of expulsions – in 1492 from Spain, and then a few decades later from England, wandering East to Poland, left him with this one ability to communicate. Now he is in love with the woman who will save his life and lead him to his own personal redemption. I put together this project in hope of my own personal redemption – as a way to remember that love has been in the world since before we have tracked all catastrophic events that seem to erase it from our consciousness. In my attempt to find an ancient fountain of love, I looked towards the oldest love song that I knew – Shir Hashirim, The Songs of Songs, that is of Solomon. I tried to trace the path of love and desire for a better life that led my families from Judea to wander much of the globe in search of what – in search of love.