Inigo Aragon

29 06 2012

We were your parents, your grandparents, maybe yourself decades ago, when our houses were barracks and we sat around a table waiting for visitors, hand on hand on a cold hand.

Spaniards: he is deceased.

People gone. Murdered. Abducted. Or just older. There is a sense in these collages of Inigo Aragon of time. Time passing us by. Leaving us behind. Memories. Remade. Everything is haunted.

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