It is sometimes difficult to find our own identity; or honey-hor, it is difficult to describe it in pictures. So, I turned to those who are constantly reminding me who I am and the way I rode up here; these people are my parents and my maternal grandparents. I went back to them and sat down to relive in my mind the stories they told me ... Of the tours along the river, naps on the banks of the gardens, the tantrums in public space, the summer evening strolls , etc etc etc. "Remember is to live", it is true! And I realized that the identity of each of us is something that is never complete, is something that is always under construction and change, but it's something that comes from behind, from our past that can never be denied. What we are today is a reflection - more or less faithful - what we were in the past, be it close or not. So we returned to rummage in my chest, I drew my doll election and left for a great photographic adventure. Dragged me my parents and my grandparents, I showed my boyfriend my stories and rediscovered stories when I was a very little girl who was lost in the midst of great people and we thought everything was giant. The series can be seen below is a reflection of everything that I was referring above.