I look through the archive and I remember where I took the pictures. I know if it was windy or not, how it smelled, with who was I with. For a panorama over one city I had to climb many stairs on a hot day; I got a little bit sick and my husband freaked out. For other picture I slipped in a muddy puddle and my friends helped me clean until I could get back into the car. There I was all alone walking through the city to see a bloomed tree while taking time to look at one wery old house with vanishing paint.
What surprised me at one point, was a date. I looked at the date I took the picture and it all came back to me. I was in a very hard period of my life and suffered deeply. Somehow I forgot that. Maybe it's my mind's way to protect me.
Or maybe a great passion, like taking pictures, can be a way to ease the pain.
A way to make all dissapear for just one second, when you look into a little square.
I took this picture the other day. Who knows what I 'll remember when I 'll look at it over the years. Maybe the little yellow bird I was chasing. Or maybe something I 'm trying so hard to forget.