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"THE WEIGHT OF LONGING."
"THE WEIGHT OF LONGING."
"THE WEIGHT OF LONGING."
Cardboard silhouettes replace my family, hollow forms holding the weight of an unsettled history.
I find myself longing for a version of the world that never was—an imagined present or future that could have unfolded from the same past, but didn’t. One where I’m still me, still marked by memory, but shaped into something else by a different arrangement of time. The past remains, but it twists inward, folding under the weight of longing until it resembles something entirely new.
Cardboard silhouettes replace my family, hollow forms holding the weight of an unsettled history.
I find myself longing for a version of the world that never was—an imagined present or future that could have unfolded from the same past, but didn’t. One where I’m still me, still marked by memory, but shaped into something else by a different arrangement of time. The past remains, but it twists inward, folding under the weight of longing until it resembles something entirely new.
Cardboard silhouettes replace my family, hollow forms holding the weight of an unsettled history.
I find myself longing for a version of the world that never was—an imagined present or future that could have unfolded from the same past, but didn’t. One where I’m still me, still marked by memory, but shaped into something else by a different arrangement of time. The past remains, but it twists inward, folding under the weight of longing until it resembles something entirely new.
