I create curated visual collections of treasured items that carry the weight of memory. Each object—a sacred wedding dress, tattered wallpaper, faded postcards, pressed flowers, or a child's tiny shoe—acts as a vessel for a moment, a feeling, a person. They are quiet witnesses to lives once vivid: afternoons that smelled of sun-warmed grass, conversations that stretched until dusk, laughter echoed down narrow hallways.

These objects are modest in scale but expansive in meaning. Their imperfections—cracks, stains, frayed edges—map the passage of time and make them unmistakably human. To hold one is to tilt the world back a fraction, to recall not only what happened but how it felt.

In collecting and displaying these items, we assemble a personal archive: fragments arranged to tell a story that words alone cannot. They invite slow looking, gentle handling, and the practice of remembering as an act of care.