August 31, 2008
Somewhere at home there still is the first photograph I took. I must have been five years old. It was a summer evening, and my dad agreed I take a photo of him. We went to the terrace and he positioned himself in front of me, hand on the balustrade. You can see the balustrade on the photo, and the brown tiles of the terrace, and on them my long shadow, holding the shadow of the camera. There are my dad's brown shoes, and khaki trousers, and beige socks, and that is it – the photo cuts off at the knees.