An archive of the places we move through, noticing or not. We drift off to sleep in the waiting rooms, we break apart and reform ourselves. We wake in  new place, never having left.



Suddenly around us there are people with stories to tell: they look at the ground and avoid our gaze. We’ve heard it all: the pain, the sadness, the joy and the love. It’s so predictable – so much so that you never really listen.



Here we cross borders, move into and through new territories. We communicate (or fail to). We go through the rituals which give each space that sense of belonging.



In this space, such-and-such a story happened. In that space he/she passed out of our life for good. These are the places in which our memories are made.