Natural imagery encapsulated by the mortal carcass of experience. Time as concept, time as commodity: the universall constant claimed for individual archives. We, the vehicles, suspend ourselves by a mere thread of certainty within the depths of our cavernous human psyches. There was the past, here is the present; the weight of difference between construct and actuality. By definition, the capacity to return to a previous state or condition having been altered or deformed, we the lonely attach our trust to the blurred lines and familiar tones of that which we hold on to. The morning throws beams of soft light through a kitchen window, illuminating specs of dust hanging on to the exhuastive breath of a ceiling vent. Remembrance is such that, if only for a brief moment, it can suspend reality. Remembrance is such that, if only for a lifetime, it can suspend us.

—Caleigh Dunfield