Silence in my head

“It’s getting silent in my head”, my dad said to my mother a few years ago. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease and couldn’t read his newspaper anymore, had forgotten all he knew about almost everything and was even forbidden to take a stroll in his so favoured woods.

So every time we had the opportunity, one of us accompanied him into ‘his’ woods. I quite often had a camera with me on these ever shortening walks.

Date: Jan 2016

Client: Personal Work

Picking blueberries was his favourite kind of treasure hunting.
My dad, wondering who's that man making a picture of him.
When we had little time for a walk, I tried to avoid gravelled roads. Hunting for pebbles could lower his average speed to less than 50 meters per hour.
Treasure hunting. When he got his mind set on one, he wouldn't stop till he had picked a pebble loose from the soil.
My dad, urgently trying to communicate. Too bad he had lost almost all of his words
Suddenly making contact, talking with his eyes. A moment before, we had spotted an airplane.
His eyes on the floor, in search of little treasures. A pebble, a leave. He always gave them to me and then forget about them.
Urgently trying to spot an airplane through the tree branches. As a boy, during WWII, my dad witnessed the destruction of the house in front of theirs.