Les vivant·es

One Sunday, my father died. I wanted to hear friends tell their stories. Friends who I know have had to give up seeing, and touching, and hearing, as we see, and touch, and hear those we love. What's left? What is happening ? What do they make us do? One Sunday, my father died. I wanted to hear friends tell their stories. Friends who I know have had to give up seeing, and touching, and hearing, as we see, and touch, and hear those we love. What's left? What is happening ? What do they make us do? One Sunday, my father died. I wanted to hear friends tell their stories. Friends who I know have had to give up seeing, and touching, and hearing, as we see, and touch, and hear those we love. What's left? What is happening ? What do they make us do? One Sunday, my father died. I wanted to hear friends tell their stories. Friends who I know have had to give up seeing, and touching, and hearing, as we see, and touch, and hear those we love. What's left? What is happening ? What do they make us do?