Memory unravels in wind-splatters, on the walls of a house never lived in. Memories escape like crumbs of fog, etched within thin cracks. The house welcomes no one; only the echo learns to remember. Every wall holds a color that won’t last, a sigh that fades away. The ceiling retains a glimmer that never settles. Invisible faces dissolve into dust and cold light. No one is here, yet the air keeps a map of presences. The memory, dissolved, remains suspended between wall and void.