"Acqua in bocca" is a Corsican expression which literally means "water in the mouth". It is an invitation to remain silent.
A mysterious photo album, found amongst my mother's things. All that remains in it are traces of glue and a few scattered captions. It has been emptied of its contents. The album's captions are clues to a path that I decided to take with my 10- and 11-year-old daughters.
We arrive by boat, slowly approaching the island shrouded in sea mist, from which the coastline appears, pursuing an attempt to make contact with an unknown family. We land at Bastia, my mother's native town, and enter Corsica as though cutting into flesh, intrusively.
I want to get near a man, my mother's father, who died in Ajaccio in July 1944.