There are echoes in the spaces we leave behind. A chair still slanted where its owner used to lean. Shadows on the wall, where picture frames used to hang. Dust swirling in the light, like a memory struggling to take shape - half-formed, delicate, slipping away if you reach too fast.
This is how it happens. The past does not leave all at once. It fades. Quietly. Into the spaces between. A scent that remains in an old coat. The whispers of conversations past, from a room now empty. A name that lingers at the tip of your tongue, just out of reach.
You forget most things in the end. But not everything. Some moments resist.
This is what lingers within, an exploration of the imprints left behind, the ghosts of emotion embedded in the places we once called home. There is a sadness to it. But of the kind that comes with warmth, with gratitude, with the understanding that even as time carries us forward, it never truly takes everything with it.
Some things remain.
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0xbenj and Rob Scalera
2025
