Old shirt, Charcoal, Wax
We internalize familiar spaces and carry fragments of them with us, as we move between different streets, cities, countries, time zones. We establish routines of sleeping and waking, accumulate furniture, cook meals, unlock the same front door every evening, and over time, our houses are transformed into the loci of our identity. Perhaps the apartments from our childhood days are now occupied by different families, by strangers. But that familiar bedroom door, laden with too many glossy celebrity posters, is always there, hovering at the edge of our memories, but not quite there when you reach out for the doorknob.