A home bonds people in a unique, intimate way. It is here where one gets to know emotions and acquires essential life experience. It is a place that defines identity, caters to the need of belonging and being safe, leaving its mark on the entire life. Inspired by this philosophy, I started a photo project called “Saving My Family Photos”, venturing into the territory where the past meets the future. The idea came about after the death of my grandma in 2013, when I collected a box of old family photos. It was just a single box, as compared to the several that I can clearly recall. Out of thousands of pictures accumulated over generations, all that remained were dozens, maybe hundreds. They were lost or destroyed, vanishing into time and space. It is deeply saddening to remember photos that are gone forever. As a kid, I loved to sit on a pile of old photos, so ancient that they had a yellowish tint to them. I would browse through them, ask questions and revel in the scent of the past. I just adore the smell of old cardboard prints. It is a smell of childhood, comfort, tradition and memories, as distinctive as petrichor, the smell of soil after rain. The project consists of pictures taken between the 1920s and 1980s, retelling the family story through the perspective of people and places that are gone. Aside from celebrating memories as well as paying a tribute to loved ones, values and tradition, it is in the first place an attempt at coming to terms with the notion of passing through finding a new meaning for it. Some of the photos will soon turn a century old. Shot at the end of the 1920s, they offer exceptional insight into the subsequent decades, with stories unfolding against a backdrop of the evolving urban landscape, architecture, fashion and lifestyle. “Saving My Family Photos” is not only about preserving heritage for future generations, but also trying to keep the past from fading away.