A forgotten Family Photo

                                                      Pierre, Frieda and Anne-Marie

 This old family photo becomes like a window into a world that still breathes behind the paper

Finding an old family photo is like opening a door to a world that now exists only in memory. The image, a bit faded, a bit gray, seems to breathe still. One can recognize familiar faces, simple gestures, a way of being together that tells more than thousand words. Every detail becomes a clue: summer light, a period piece of clothing, a smile that hasn't changed. You can imagine the voices, the laughter, the conversations interrupted by the click of the camera. Ans suddenly, the past feels close. It is no longer just a photograph, but a fragment of life that comes back to the surface.

These recovered images remind us where we come from, what we have been through, and the quiet tenderness of ordinary moments. They are open windows onto time, silent witnesses that continue to watch over us, even when those depicted in them have long since left the frame. It was one of those bright summers in Knokke, on Albert Beach, where time seemed to stretch gently. There were the three of us: my brother, my sister and I, gathered as always by the sea. Dad true to himself, held his Rolleiflex ready to capture every moment, as if he already knew that these images become treasures.

My brother, already intrigued by the young women in bathing suits passing by laughing, cast curious glances around him. My sister, on the other hand, proudly sad atop a car inner tube- the fashionable flotation device of the time. She called me, inviting me to come sit with her on the tire. I hesitated the water was cold, too cold for me. But she insisted, gently pulling me, almost laughing, and eventually gave in. We mist have been in the summer of 1947 or so. A simple time, when everything still seemed possible, when the sea, the sun, and the presence of loved ones were enough to fill an entire day.