Single - FotoSlovo 2025 - Category « Fine Art »

In the end, all that’s left are the memories we hold. It’s a fear that these memories, like wisps of smoke, will dissipate with time, leaving me with a void that cannot be filled. I wish I could have collected more of these memories. Since I can’t hear your voice, your footsteps, or feel your presence, I have to pretend, so that’s what I do.