I found myself on a lost street in Malta,in a garage, a person sitting on a chair at the bottom. The only light coming from the street illuminated his face. From the outside I took a picture and he asked me to come. Upon entering I discovered that the entire space was covered by the obituaries of all the deceased of the island. The man did not speak English, only Maltese, but we managed to understand each other, telling me that he remembered each and every one of the deceased of the island.