Clémentine Mélois, a finalist for the 93rd Prix des Deux Magots for her book Things I Thought I Had Lost (L’Arbalète/Gallimard), has created a work that explores objects, memories, and things that fade with time. In a reimagined version of the famous Proust questionnaire, the author and artist reflects on what she would keep, what she longs to find again, and the traces that remain important to her. The object she would keep if she had to pack everything into a box is a small pebble on the cover of her book. She collected it from the grave of the French poet Georges Perros and would carry it in her pocket, calling it one of her "precious stones." The object she would throw away without hesitation is not clearly defined, as she explains that she began writing the book because she cannot bring herself to throw anything away. A simple object she has given too much meaning to is an aluminum soap dish she found in the ruins of a house that once belonged to her grandfather. Though it looked unremarkable, it symbolized the entire history of her family for her. A memory she would like to put in a box includes awkward situations, jobs she did not enjoy, and difficult interactions. A lost thing she would like to find again is a photomat of a friend, who posed as the Mona Lisa, which she had painted the background for. A song that instantly transports her to an important moment is any song by the Beatles, especially A Day in the Life, which reminds her of her 14th year and the time she spent preparing for the Beaux-Arts competition. A piece of clothing that belongs to an older version of herself is her printer's apron, which bore the marks of all the prints she made. The small detail she always notices about someone is their library. A habit she would like to give up during her next move is her tendency to collect pebbles, including one from the grave of the writer Roland Barthes and two kilograms of volcanic scoria from Snæfellsjökull, Iceland, linked to Jules Verne's Journey to the Center of the Earth. She notes that these objects are always connected to a moment, a person, or literature. She also enjoys owning objects from books, as if she has pulled them from the pages. The word she uses when she doesn't know how to say goodbye is "see you later," which she finds more open than "goodbye." She recalls realizing too late that it was the last time she saw the writer Marcel Cohen, who died this summer. She mentions that life is made up of nothing but such moments. If her memory had to be held in a single object, she would choose her wedding ring. A memory she is no longer sure is completely true involves a childhood experience at kindergarten, which she describes as a true memory. A story she could tell endlessly without growing tired of it is her childhood memories, including anecdotes like when her family went to the garbage pile to look for treasures. If she could recover one thing she has lost—an object, a person, a place, or a feeling—it would be a month of her life to spend one more hour with her father.