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This is the only film reel my father ever shot in the place where I spent my childhood. Unfortunately, almost nothing remains: the memories of a bonfire in our garden back home, captured on film in ’97, now worn away by time. A whirl of aquamarine blue dances wildly, occasionally allowing me a glimpse of something hidden beneath layers of melted and corroded emulsion. The flames trapped within the frames vanish, submerged beneath layers of moisture.