hide things for the joy of finding a discovery still excited as when exploring the house as a child.
My relationship with the objects so created;
Serena, protected from the memories of my family,
a wonderful family.
At first my parents were to guide the discovery of these treasures, and everything was new and mysterious forms and ideas, happiness wrapped in black velvet, collected in the most inaccessible drawers, chests corridor so unknown.
When a man dies, the objects remain here packed into his mobile to tell her story. Mamma
storytellers like the pages of I read a book every jewel, every disc, fabric, metal and a lighter became enchanted history and speech, sense of belonging and protection. A common thread
triangle between me, my parents and their. Try
still the same emotion today.
objects have become a storm, the memories of dust traps that leave a vacuum in the memory and soul.
do not want anyone remembers me. Desperately
remember someone.
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