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A strange sensation has begun to settle in my chest, a constant tug at my memory, but also a push toward something undefined. Perhaps it’s the memory of a moment just past. Perhaps it’s the fact that there are more than one, more than one layer, one whisper, one echo — still here but distant, felt but not understood. | |||
Nothing appears from no-where. A strange sensation has begun to settle in my chest, a constant tug at my memory, but also a push toward something undefined. Perhaps it’s the memory of a moment just past. Perhaps it’s the fact that there are more than one, more than one layer, one whisper, one echo — still here but distant, felt but not understood. | |||
In all cultures ghosts haunt places, humans, whole societies. | In all cultures ghosts haunt places, humans, whole societies. | ||
We can talk of ghosts as shadows cast from times lost, places forgotten. But what if it’s not the ghost that haunts us, but rather, we who haunt ourselves? The ghosts we encounter are never the past itself. Instead, they are–in their most concrete form traces and effects– and in their most abstract, what we imagine the past to be, what it means to us now, what we need it to be. In any case, it is the space between past and present, presence and absence where ghosts become almost. | We can talk of ghosts as shadows cast from times lost, places forgotten. But what if it’s not the ghost that haunts us, but rather, we who haunt ourselves? The ghosts we encounter are never the past itself. Instead, they are–in their most concrete form traces and effects– and in their most abstract, what we imagine the past to be, what it means to us now, what we need it to be. In any case, it is the space between past and present, presence and absence where ghosts become almost. |
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