The memory exercise leads to fiction. And it is essential to remember that this is a selective activity, as a survival strategy; we remember some things and not others. What happens is that we are not aware of these strategies and that we regard memory as something safe. In addition, memory is our mechanism for building the story of what we live. Actually, everyone's life is fragmented. When we remember, we build a story and we make sense of it. And that construction is fictional. It's also part of our survival strategy how we live things. That is why it sometimes seems that the facts are only going to bring us. Pain and discomfort. We want to make sense of the absurdity. Tears fall even though we want to keep them. I'm exploring in my photos looking for a smile and I found a photo of a couple. They kiss in front of the support that counts the days in prison of the young people of Altsasu as if they were in a tourist destination. On the other side of the street, I didn't hear what he was told. I want to think they were words of love. Because love is the only thing you can't hide. The only one is not fictional.