"Imagine the memories are just behind, you're locked in a dark room looking at a window trying to remember the life that has happened and you can not see anything more than a misty landscape with lakes, which can not differentiate shapes or colors, when more you dart around in the fog becomes more confusing and murky, the reminiscence of life is the desire that consumes you and you approach the existence of death empty inside, helpless and isolated.

This article is about my grandmother. It's about all of us about the fragility of memories, about the importance of knowing who we are, about the loss of our identity of and on the fight against human death. "