I often think of memory not as something I hold in my mind, but as something that lives in my body. In my hands, when I make art. In my feet, when I walk. In my heart, when I pause to remember a place I once loved—or a version of myself I’ve left behind. That’s what art has become for me, it’s my way of mapping those inner landscapes. It helps me gather scattered pieces of memory, longing, and emotion, and bring them into the present, not to fix them, but to hold them with care. Through collage, especially, I build spaces where memory and place meet—not always literally, but emotionally.