My aunt Oli is not really my aunt. But as long as I can think back, aunt Oli was part of my life. Together with her husband, a watchmaker, she lived in a small studio apartment full of clocks. As I child I loved to visit her because in this small room, where they had to extend the couch every evening in order for the two of them to sleep on it, there was so much to watch that I could never get enough.Read More »