This collection was born from a letter I wrote to myself
A map back to what I’ve been searching for all along.
Memory never leaves. It settles deep, woven into the marrow of your bones.
And letters?
They are the quiet keepers of everything you once were, everything you once held.
People flinch at the thought of bones.
They see only stillness, only endings.
I see grace. Bones can be just as grand as they are fragile
elegant monuments to what has endured.
Your memory should be no less. Let it be grand. Let it be fierce. Let it burn with the fury of everything you refuse to forget.
My collection does not mourn the faded. It celebrates the traces they left behind. It whispers to those who still remember, ‘Hold on.’ Even the ghost of a thing can be worth keeping.

Tutor: Febbie