For several years my mother has been dealing with progressive dementia. Gradually, she is closing herself off in her world of fading memories and tangled reminiscences. In order to stay in reality as long as possible, she takes notes and labels objects. She fights. By accompanying my mother, I try to notice small shifts that disturb our sense of balance. With the passage of time, there are more and more of them. Photos help me to come to terms with what is so difficult for me to face. Standing on the threshold of what is inevitable, I try to accept that one day I will become a stranger to her.
