In this work, part of the Blind or Shadow Paintings series, the material itself becomes an act of remembrance. The fragile layer of phosphorescent gel, the cool transparency of the glass, and the faint relief of the Braille letters together form a memorial surface — one that speaks not through depiction, but through presence and absence.

The image shows the children of the Izieu foster home, whose lives were brutally ended in 1944. Their outlines, barely visible by day and glowing softly in darkness, seem to hover between disappearance and return. The Night-Glow Gel transforms light into a form of time: the past reappears only when everything else fades, like memory that refuses extinction.

The Braille text, taken from a letter written by one of the children to his mother shortly before the Gestapo raid, restores a tender human voice to what history reduced to numbers. Its tactile script reminds us that remembrance is not only visual; it must also be felt. The work thus merges material fragility with moral endurance — a quiet, luminous elegy where vision yields to empathy, and where light becomes the last form of resistance against oblivion.