Mother, I do not know you. Mother, I never knew you.
Daughter – without knowing, you knew me.
- Tillie Olsen
Memories, to exist, need people to hold onto them.
Family and friends have testified, images have spoken and yet, the essential is missing: the voice of my mother. To illustrate her words, I chose reality, I chose life, images taken in and around our family house where she grew up during World War II, where she later spent her vacation as a teenager, then as an adult. The house she came back to after her divorce, where I, myself, grew up. The house where she spent the last few years and months of her life. This house that was a witness to most of her life and very nearby which her body rests today.
Because every single laughter, every single tear, every single doubt and every single certitude were, one day, a reality.
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