Precious family treasure: "The past slips away and is lost, flows away like water, drains away like sand, and we hear 
the low murmuring of noise and notice how it is lost. I am the one seeing it, the only observer, the only witness: 
the dust on the shiny black boots, the tracks of the horses in the road, the swaying curtain in front of the window or 
the ribbon on the threshold; I'm the only one who knows about it, and if I did not record it, it would be lost as if it 
never existed. I alone hear, and if there were voices sounding from this darkness, the words would be lost if I did not 
listen and record them”.