Memories From A Fading Room: I am going through thousands of photographs, wishing to stop the flow of time, the motionless rush. Memories. Strangers, men and women I got to know well and can live without, my loved ones, someone’s little daughter, my children, unintelligible happiness, a lipstick print on a rear-view mirror, the green of summer lawns, a Christmas tree, clouds, a shadow, a bright sky, a beach waiting for us to return young and beautiful, an unknown place, where someone has lived all their life, music on a deserted concrete dancefloor, rising stars. To be there again, experience it for the first time. To draw the curtains open and let the wind in the spacious, sunny apartment. It takes only an instant, a few breaths, but with every new stitch comes the fragrance too, insanely dear, I caress the place which will become a wrinkle one day, she says she loved him, finally I am sure. With every stitch I see and hear it so vividly, so clearly, life flows through his heart and I can feel it, feel it, as if it was mine. Everything is in the touch. Nothing is lost.