"Any work of art remains a mystery, including for its author"
Here, we are dealing with life, with death in a very gentle manner, as if carried away towards the ineluctable but with no violence.
Our childhood toys fly away, float in the air.
The mirror of a beloved grandmother comes out of the attic.
The sound atmospheres resonate within us like a vibration of the living.
How to preserve this precious part of childhood, this innocence, this capacity for wonder.
Fight against, accept, deal with?
So many questions that with the passage of time remind us that programmed obsolescence is not only for objects.