Seen together, the photographs echo the mind’s own patterns: free associations, sudden leaps between times and places, emotions revisited without warning.

The thread is not linear but felt, woven in hindsight.
These are the days that stayed not because they were grand, but because they imprinted themselves quietly and refused to fade.

Days that Stayed

Memory does not arrange itself in straight lines.
It drifts, interrupts, overlaps.

More like a collage than a chronology. What remains are fragments, a gesture, a color of light, the way a room once held its silence.

Days That Stayed gathers these fragments into a visual field,
a sequence of photographs that may appear unconnected,
yet are bound together in the act of remembering. Each image is less about what happened than about what insisted on remaining the stubborn details that survived the fading memories.