This event has ended
Picking up fragments of memory to fill the missing corners.
Memory is the absence of the past. Regardless of which memory or which absence, they will eventually become nostalgia, allowing me to wander between the most beautiful and the most sorrowful spaces, embarking on a journey of recollection.
The self within memories embraces threads of sweetness and specks of bitterness... countless stories, a hundred flavors. Memories are the loss of the past. They lead the present self onto the path of recollection, searching for past losses in the corners, reweaving one's own story. When embracing that flavor again, will it be indulgence or letting go? What does the present self possess?
