Tatiana Boret-Olsson


Involuntary memory
A series of images of what I remember of my home country after 14 years of living somewhere else.
I am investigating what time and distance does to a memory; why do certain places and events remain imprinted in my mind while others fade away?


A sight of rare treat – small tin can with blue paper around it that says “moloko”. Sweet condensed milk that was only taken out of pantry on special occasions. To this day it tastes like a celebration to me.
City gates. The first sight of the city when coming from the airport. First sight of old home. It is also the last one when leaving to come back to new home.


There was this long corridor in my school, with windows on both sides, white curtains and lots of flower pots. We had a little kiosk with snacks at the end of it where we would go during breaks to buy something and sit between flower pots gossiping.


My daughter was born here. Grayish brown worn out building, typical soviet hospital. Stairs up to the entrance and a plastic sign with hospital name. The day she was born was grey and very cold, the hospital had barely any heating so they told me to have her in bed with me at all times to keep her warm.


See more from Tatiana here!