The ticking of a clock sounds like small gasps like when a parent sees their child turn around, all dressed, ready for the ball. But what does it feel like the other way around? When a child watches her mother once a goddess, glowing gold grow dusty as time begin to bury her. Photographs capture moments that no longer belong to us, and yet, they're how we remember who we were. The one standing in front of me now is newer, stranger and each memory made fills our lungs with the