Just before opening this archive, there were projected scenes where i found simple joys, it’s summer, photos and silent films of the family lineage projected in a spherical auditorium before the dark night,  in the acoustic space of birdsong, music that breaks the heart.

These shared posthumously memories, were missing the unique presence of silence and voices. They make  you melancholic and the pathetic memory struggles cloistered behind a glass wall. The last cinematographic family archives showed ruins of streets and houses mixed together, circuits from shelter to shelter, nocturnal movements. Maybe it is necessary to burn those archives?