He's quiet a moment, then says - a bit softly - "It isn't to me." He looks down at her, then, and there's something a little sad in his face. Something a little hungry.

You're all I have of that place, Sonia. You're the only one who truly belongs there... He takes a breath and collects himself. There is no time for sentiment. There is no time for doubt. He needs to keep moving forward.

"But I think that's a lovely idea. How are you envisioning this? A photo-album? A showing, perhaps?"