Essoyes. December 6 2014.
My grandmother was buried in the cemetery of a small french village. That morning the white sky fell into confusion with the mists. Color had disappeared. She's here now surrounded by these roads while somewhere in family albums, one finds her presence in her father’s photographs.

"La beauté du spectacle, au moment même où nous la saisissons, est la négation du néant."

Jean-Claude Carrière
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