I used to think that a picture suspends an individual paused in time. Alone, I questioned this idea. Fixating on how I could use my camera, not to depict someone, but the lack thereof. Wandering through our apartment, I collected the parts of him, left behind. The marks and traces, proving previous inhabitance.

Photographing the objects where he could be felt.The objects that still held his sent, his essence, absorbed deep within their fibers. All the textures of what was, until eventually, like a shadow, they too disappeared.