Silverware on a silver plate in a corner. Lots of photos of an endless list of great-grand children in the whole room. Tiny vases with flowers next to tin boxes with cookies or chocolates on the table. The way Olivier looks at her when he asks a question. The way she looks back at him.
All things I want to capture with my lens. Things I want my little ones to remember. Because it means something somehow. Because it all belongs to my oma.