Vestiges

Time, like the sea, never stops moving. In its ebb and flow, it carries everything with it: memories, gestures, objects, presences.

Each isolated object, altered in color, resembles a worn-out memory out of place. A fragment that evokes those who once surrounded us briefly and vanished without farewell. Like friends who one day walked beside us and suddenly stopped, leaving behind only a shape, a color, a fading sensation clinging to memory. Like the people who pass briefly through our lives and leave a mark. Others, perhaps, were always there, unnoticed—like part of our everyday landscape, revealing the weight of their presence only through their absence.

Between sky and sand, between the object and its surroundings, a metaphor emerges: of human passage—ephemeral, sometimes accidental, sometimes indelible. And thus, between what is visible and what is barely sensed, the image becomes a quiet reflection on impermanence, abandonment, the erosion of memory, and the traces we leave behind simply by living.

Nothing lasts, and everything leaves a vestige.