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After a fire destructed my house, I return to the places where I grew up looking for childhood recollections. In this journey appears the memory of a photo for Karin Eitel, a young woman, tortured and detained during the dictatorship, to whom I owe my name. A story that my parents never told me, brings me closer to Karin and not just because of my name. In the background, the memory of a childhood in Chile, a country that reconstructed its democracy omitting its own history. |