A coffee and a millefeuille that was my ritual in the train station in Mateur, my mother's hometown, every time I visited my grandparents.
This same taste I found it back in front of this same train station 20 years later when I discovered a romantic tag funnily written :

'You are,so,Special to,me Malek always remem,ber that'.
Which gave me a feeling of pleasure for taste of the cream and bitterness for the time passing by.
Perhaps it is simply the taste of nostalgia.

This same station also testifies to an encounter and often to a goodbye, the very specificity of the universe : life and death.

An encounter , a memory, an image and finally a trace.

The nostalgia is the immaterial form of a memory and sometimes the oblivion. The photography is its material form.

The photography power is to mark moments, faces, sensations, forms and as for a book it would be a bookmark.

Sometimes when we come back to these bookmarks after a certain time, we forget the last lines, but very quickly the memory of the words takes us and a sensation of déjà vu seizes our body. A feeling of a memory already forgotten.