Amor was short, she used to always wear skirts and did the crossword every Sunday. I remember her tiny lips, her short hair and the hairdo she always had done for special occasions. The day she passed away I discovered in one of her drawers, the photo album from when she was young. There she was, like I've never seen her before. In one photograph she was posing on top of an immense rock. She wore a dark swimsuit and her tiny left hand clung to the rock while the waves crashed behind her.

I´ve spent hours staring at these images, observing and trying to recognize the woman who used to hold me at night when I was a child. I began to notice the kind of clothes she wore and the way grandpa held her by the arm. Her tiny hands. I was fascinated of  how much I could learn just by looking at these photographs of her. I had uncovered a new sense in someone I had always known.

This work is a collection of cropped images that I´ve taken from that album. A personal study of the structure of her body. I asked myself, what can photographs tell us about the ones we love? How can memories survive through time in a photograph?.