As I age, my memories grow frail, and I turn to photography to grasp what slips away.

Are these images mere shadows of fleeting moments, or do they shape the story of who I was? Perhaps they are the desperate grasp of a mind bracing against oblivion, each picture a faint echo of a life I can no longer recall. I study them, tracing the outlines of faces, places, and feelings that once defined my world.

In this act, photography becomes my Will to Remember, an atlas of a fading Self.