All of these rooms look so familiar… I could've sworn I've been here before but in this world, for some reason I have no concept of time, or any memories for that matter. Truly where was I In life, in time, space? This would be a new journey, I'm still young. My skin is smooth, I'm slim, my suit fits nicely. I can remember a few spaces, all unfamiliar, but they are very deeply ingrained in my memory. The farthest away space, a warehouse, with broken machinery, loose bolts, creaking. A warm environment. The sunlight casting golden geometries onto the dusty broken tiles through the shattered plexiglass windows and buckling conduit. A memory in sepia. A space so large the architecture seemed infinite… in the middle of nowhere. Deserted, in the desert. But what brought me to this structure of abandonment? How do you sift through the dust to find the answers to what this could all mean? In this moment, let this space be home, for it is where I have been placed. And let each room be a memory.

The air is dull, there is longing and depression here no doubt. I sit at a walnut desk with curved legs. It's wood malnourished and dry. Sunbleached floral wallpaper frames the ominous windows in this room. At night the room is tungsten, to mimic the burnt out glow from the sun during the day. I don't trust the sun, I like it at night.