Fragmented Memory

Memory never comes back as a whole, it breaks into fragments like cellulose negatives. It sits within the mess, slowly dissolving. Cutout images collide inside my head, forming a reality that is never certain whether it truly happened, distorted and imperfect. What remains is not a complete story, but a constructed reality shaped by the memories that matter to me, struggling to survive time, where nothing is permanent and everything is eventually corroded.