Should I have recorded my voice in English?! It took me time to realize that forgetting one's language is often integral to emigration. 

From the beginning, I knew I would take many memorable things from home and bring back even more. I've been making memory boxes since I was a kid. I have collected bus tickets, candy wrappers, napkins, and much more.

The memories associated with some of these items have faded over time. 

Before leaving for Germany, I left notes to all my loved ones, simple reminders that I am here for them if they need me. This "being here" actually is more soothing for us, the ones who leave. As we leave the letters, things, and sacred talismans we also take parts of our home with us.

One of my most precious items is this red thread, Ariadne's thread, which I keep for when I feel lost. And believe me, when moving away from home you will inevitably find yourself lost at times. On top of the letter and Ariadne's thread lies a photo of my favorite place: Betania House. It’s where my best friend and I spent our summer breaks together since 2009.

Here, among the Soviet stamps, is my mother's collection of  flower stamps. I doubt she knew that for a year, instead of her closet, her collection found itself in Germany, with me.

While I lived in Berlin, I gave one stamp to each friend on their birthday. This is how the flowers found their forever homes in Germany.

These are my birthday candles. Some say you shouldn't keep them, or the wishes you made won’t come true. The letter next to it is decorated with one of the stamps I took from my mother, I kept this letter in my drawer during the entirety of my stay in Germany. 


I dedicate a separate paragraph to my relationship with this letter. It says “Open when you feel the saddest, if you don’t open it give it back to me, it will make me happy.” I kept it for a whole year, thinking that I would open it on a particularly tragic day and it would save me like a medicine. Yet whenever I was having a bad day, I thought I could have a worse day. I would save the letter and my friend's words within it, which would wrap around me like an embrace, for the worst day that could come.

The struggle between me and the letter ended a few days before leaving. On the most peaceful and normal day, I decided to open it. I probably didn't want to return it to my friend, nor admit that any day was sadder than the other. 

At some point, I wanted to look at the memories and sacred things that other Georgian migrants brought with them. This crystal is from Racha and was taken from Utsera. Years ago, Tatiana’s family used to visit Utsera every summer. Many years ago, when she was very young, Utsera used to be full of such crystals.

At that time a friend of Tatiana’s family was working in the mining company and was gifting crystals to friends and family. As I’ve been told other crystals were given away or lost. The village of Utsera is now empty of its authentic beauty; I guess the mining company extracted everything. But my friend took one last piece with her, first to the capital, Tbilisi, and then to Germany.

This pendant belongs to the same friend, or rather her mother, who wore it since her teenage years. Before her, it belonged to her mother as well.

This is my favorite piece. Not only does this particular photo preserve the memories of my friend, Nino, who migrated to Germany a long time ago, but it also carries the memory of the strangers pictured in the photo. Unfortunately, time did not preserve everyone's name, only Tina’s. The photo is dated June 10, 1930. 


Nino moved to Germany more than ten years ago, and perhaps because she left the country at a relatively young age, she brought a lot of souvenirs, photos, and paintings with her. However, when I asked what she cherished the most, she showed me this photo with great pride and told me how she accidentally found "Tina and Comrades" at Dry Bridge in Tbilisi, a place where all sorts of old items are sold. And I am still wondering, like her, which is Tina and which are Tina’s comrades. 

This multimedia is the Georgian version of the English text.