When my granny died a few years ago, we had to pack together her whole apartment. A whole life, that fitted so easily into these five rooms. Countless boxes with old photographs, slides, letters and documents. Over 50 years of correspondance, all neatly filed. We found real treasures in those boxes, like letters from my greatgrandfather to my grandfather, written during World War II, while my jewish greatgrandfather was in hiding.
I looked through most of the photographs, because I love those old black and white pictures of distant relatives, all long gone. In one of the boxes I finally found a tiny little wallet. It had pictures of my grandfather as a young, handsome man in it. The wallet was exactly the right size to put into your handbag, or your pocket, to have a memory of someone close and important with you at all times.