Extreme South of Brazil, January 2008. Ilhota is a small island between the Guaiba River and the Patos Lagoon, near the city of Porto Alegre. My father's boat got beached there on our way to the Ilha da Barba Negra (Black Beard Island.) We spent the night over a sand bank, our tiny boat leaning to one side, the three of us (my father, my daughter and I) crammed inside. As the child slept, dad and I spent the night discussing everything, from the meaning of life to the history of Brazil, the music in the world and the Russian revolution, and breathing the hot wind of summer. In the morning a fisherman called Walter and his partner, João Carlos, came to our rescue and took us to shore. Our boat was on the sand for five days, until the waters raised. We never made it to the Barba Negra. Those were five days of long conversations, and great meals. I strongly felt our connection to the earth, its animals and plants, the warm sun and big rains. We were very close as three generations of our family, a rare opportunity, since my father lives in Brazil and my daughter and I live in Canada. This is the memory I will always have of my father and I hope my daughter will keep of me. The camera was a Canon Powershot.