In 1993, the memories of Ibro Hasanović were created. In order for them to be preserved, a photo with an image of seven children was taken. They stand in front of a building on which there is an image of Mostar Bridge, part of the collective consciousness of our space. A double memory. The child behind the camera co-created the image on the building and, after twenty years, recreated it in the gallery space. As when he temporarily lived in Ljubljana for the first time, he has again scooped wall paint with a brush. With the gesture of an artistic swing, which is what he knows best today, he steals memories from oblivion. Like a medieval bard, he sings a personal story to the community, the only difference being that instead of a song, there is an image. An intimate video projection of children playing games in the snow also invades the exhibition space. With Bruegel's depictions of children playing games in the sixteenth century, we do not ask what those depicted were doing when not playing. A brief, carefully arranged fragment of a video letter from Hasanović's father raises such questions. The inevitable premonition does not obscure the view of a fragment of reality which can take place anywhere and at any time. On the other wall are two pictures of adults who twice posed for a photo. In the interim only their roles changed. First one is wearing a uniform, and then another. The uniform and year are hints of reality, the title, and repetition, a snare in the creation of the game. In the foreground there is a situation, the five persons portrayed are positioned without an attempt to create an 'over-story'. The situation is a game with an image from a family album. The narrative of those in the portrait is unknown to the viewer, but evident enough for him to want to look out of the corner of his eye, to hear the story. The interpretation of personal memory goes into the realm of the collective, but the artist's play allows for individual interpretation.