My paternal grandmother had an artistic streak. She wasn’t ware of it but I was. Even though she never fulfilled it, this would pop out, from time to time. One of her passions was going to the cinema (where she would cry if the movie was moving or captivating), she was a narrator (actually she was a chatterbox!) and she also knew how “to play the part” that suited her best. I would often go at her’s for a coffee and a chat and now that she is gone, I am glad to have photographed her several times and also details of her flat, from which a piece of her soul emerges.





























































































