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Burnt Memories

by Hans Guhl (Colombia)

Colombia

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I start this series off a few days after a sequence of hard days. After filing a report with the police, receiving the visit of the fire dept., having cleared some debris, saved as many items as we could and cleaned a bit, I now proceed to eat a good breakfast after a long night's sleep.
I start this series off a few days after a sequence of hard days. After filing a report with the police, receiving the visit of the fire dept., having cleared some debris, saved as many items as we could and cleaned a bit, I now proceed to eat a good breakfast after a long night's sleep.
This window, or what's left of it, brings me a lot of good memories. The most recent being when I had the chance to start dipping my toes into beekeeping. Sadly, they fell victims to the trespassers, too.
This window, or what's left of it, brings me a lot of good memories. The most recent being when I had the chance to start dipping my toes into beekeeping. Sadly, they fell victims to the trespassers, too.
I'm standing on top of the debris that resulted from all of the roof tiles over what used to be my dorm. It's all that's left. I haven't finished shoveling away all of it.
I'm standing on top of the debris that resulted from all of the roof tiles over what used to be my dorm. It's all that's left. I haven't finished shoveling away all of it.
Facing the light. Trying to get away from this tearing, earthly experience; from having to relive the pain of loss. Losing my father once again in a new, different way: in the shape of the things that reminded us of all those dear memories of yore.
Facing the light. Trying to get away from this tearing, earthly experience; from having to relive the pain of loss. Losing my father once again in a new, different way: in the shape of the things that reminded us of all those dear memories of yore.
Finally, my mother. Our closed eyes represent one of the phases of grief: denial. Oh, well, what fills me with strength is the hope that this journey is not over and that it can serve as an example of resilience, just as my parents were. Our story goes on...
Finally, my mother. Our closed eyes represent one of the phases of grief: denial. Oh, well, what fills me with strength is the hope that this journey is not over and that it can serve as an example of resilience, just as my parents were. Our story goes on...

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