Set within a weathered wooden grid, the four monochrome images read like fragmented windows into memory—markets, gatherings, and still-lifes of produce suspended between documentary fact and reverie. The peeling bark-like textures of the frame press against the crisp photographic blacks and whites, turning the act of viewing into an excavation where time itself becomes a material. Light is less illumination than a threshold here, as each compartment alternates intimacy and distance, suggesting how communities and daily rituals persist even as their surfaces erode. The work quietly proposes that preservation is never pristine: what endures is stitched together from remnants, gaps, and the stubborn grain of lived experience.