There is a frustration that comes with the recollection of an experience or a person. A re-telling can only ever scratch the surface of reality. It seems as though irrelevant details always stick around better than important ones.

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I vividly remember the leather chair my grandmother
inhabited so often, 

but I can already feel myself losing exactly the way her
eyes looked 

when she smiled and looked into mine. 

 

Recollections is my best attempt at representing the piecing together of certain fragments of both distant and recent memories, focusing on my childhood summers, and my grandmother who passed away during this process.

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