by Antoine Legardinier
What happens to his dreams when his childhood home is about to be destroyed?
I walk one last time through my childhood home, damaged by time and humidity. As I come into contact with its rotting walls, doomed to disappear, vivid memories come back to me, forgotten sensations. In this place that shelters so many dreams, games and imagined worlds, I see my childhood again, my friends, my first times, my loved ones. I decide to invoke all these reveries. With the physical decay of this house, too big; I find the trace of the fracture of my family. What it has become. How it has lost its luster. Like all families surely.
In homage to this house, a vestige of past glories, joys and dreams, memories are scattered across these images, reminding of what childhood is like. The dream house takes on an extreme sensitivity. Without vulgar nostalgia, an effort not to forget, to celebrate, and to move on to adulthood.