Frame(s) of Life They are there, always there, with a benevolent gaze, hanging on our walls… For them, the time froze, the time doesn’t exist anymore. They observe us among the divinities. « Down here », time passes, running away from us, it flies, it escapes. To the rhythm of clocks ticking, our life is aspired by the whirlwind of time, occulting our finitude. As orphans, holding on to their memory, their face, their image, we cover them with offerings to make them immortal. They are there, always present, very much alive… Our hearts will always be marked with their presence, their...
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