Almost a century ago my great-grandmother Ida left Saaremaa, an island off mainland Estonia, for Australia, writing letters to her sister back home from the western suburbs of Sydney. The letters continued across generations. Written words translated between people who had not forgotten each other, even though they had never met. In 2018, my family finally journeyed to Estonia to visit Juuli’s abandoned house, which we were told was vandalised since her death. Inside we were surprised to find many of our letters from Australia – some over 50 years old. An outline of our lives rotting on an island on the other side of the world. Rotting after her death, but kept the entire duration of her life. Among these was an image of myself as a child. Pildil layers my voice to the correspondence. Beginning as a hunt for something familiar and ending with the discovery of myself, in the picture.