I’m looking at the light fall on the wall opposite me. It feels like something out of time, in me. It looks like a familiar patch of light.

Yesterday I watched some old cine-films of members of my family and me from fifty years ago. I still feel the way that we moved and the intensity, but only if I don’t reach for it. It has to come to me, helped by music on this occasion.

What am I saying?

What a strange gift from my mother and her camera, no more secret.