Memory is not an unchanging vessel for carrying the past into the present; memory is a process, not a thing, and it works differently at different points in time.
During the summer holidays of 1994, an act of sexual violence took place in the Austrian alps. Nineteen years later, Philip Treschan confronts his mother with his trauma in a documentary essay. The family album is a nostalgic illusion, a gateway to an unspoken reality and a tool for an intimate conversation with the past and for piecing together the fragments of memory into a comprehensible whole.
