The acts of men during their lifetimes forge our History. But at what point in our lifetime do we lose our own stories? Many women who wait at home, in their kitchens, for their men to return – for a missing son, a father… – have an open wound that has never quite healed. Suspended in time, their hearts go on beating as they wait tirelessly. It is death or them.

"We can’t forget our past even when our relatives are still disappeared."