Story:
I made a more poetic version than the original send via email
This kitchen
it holds time.
In exploring the notion of time,
I first turned to the aging facades of Creole houses,
those kaz in slow decline
symbols of Guadeloupe,
silent witnesses of passing years.
Architecture often speaks for us,
revealing how we grow, transform, decay.
But we’ve already told many stories through our little kaz kréyol
so I chose another path.
One day, on his birthday,
my father was seasoning meat for grilled chicken.
His hands moved with familiarity,
his hair flecked with gray
time showing itself on his body.
But around him, the kitchen stood still,
unchanged.
The contrast was striking.
Without thinking, I snapped a photo
quietly, almost secretly.
Only later did I realize how much this image
spoke to the passing of time.
What it means to me.
This kitchen, nearly thirty years old, hasn’t changed.
But my father
I’ve watched him grow older within its walls.
Time has passed here.
Things have been shared, lost,
built, broken.
And yet… time seems suspended.
Looking at the photo,
I see its quiet markers:
the tiny bottles of shrub above the range hood,
as old as I am,
faithfully cleaned each New Year by my mother.
The little Nesquik figurine
a relic from a brand that no longer makes such things.
The fruit bowl
sometimes full, sometimes bare.
The view through the window changed.
But not the window.
This photograph becomes a window itself
into our family’s story.
A canvas, almost frozen in time,
yet quietly inscribed with the passing years
through subtle shifts of color, wear,
and most of all,
through my father’s presence.
He is the clearest, most poignant sign of time’s touch.
This kitchen is a stage
of shared moments —
feasts, laughter, grief, anger,
questions and quarrels,
and all the small threads that weave
the fabric of daily life.
Moments whose weight
we only come to know with time.
My father, in this kitchen,
reminds me that time is both continuity and change.
Seeing him from behind,
still present,
opens a quiet awareness
of how family ties evolve, stretch, shift.
This image offers a space for reflection
on the fragility of time,
on the fleeting nature of life,
on the importance of holding the now.
My father growing older in this still kitchen
leads me to pause
to think,
about our bond,
and about how little hold we have
over the passing of time,
how often it escapes us
before we even notice it’s gone.

Creative Field: Photography

Connect: @truc_en_vrac | https://roisu.myportfolio.com