This is not a futuristic scene.
Nor is it a memory from the past.
It's something that exists in between, in a suspended zone where time no longer carries the same weight.
A place where staying does not mean surviving, but preserving.
The work depicts a human figure that has stopped moving, but not existing.
It's there, present, connected to something we cannot see.
The cables are not vital tools, nor mechanical elements.They are extensions of a feeling. Emotional roots.
Physical traces of an invisible will: not to be forgotten.
In a world that races forward, that erases, that archives everything with fierce speed, this figure refuses to disappear.
It doesn’t scream. It doesn’t beg. It doesn’t seek attention.
It simply remains.
And in its remaining, it performs something immensely powerful: it continues to love.
Because that is the central gesture of the work.
Not an attempt to go back, not an escape from death.
But the idea that love, if it was real, leaves a mark that cannot be erased.
A presence that continues to exist even when everything else stops.
The scene holds no drama.
There is no visible pain, no violence, no loss in the conventional sense.
There is a sweetness that’s almost unsettling, like hearing a familiar voice in a dream.
The kind of tenderness that disarms you because it cannot be grasped.
It arrives, passes through you, and then stays.
Even after.
The landscape, the light, the silence,
everything speaks of a threshold.
Not between life and death, but between presence and absence.
A porous boundary where something or someone has decided to remain, even without a body, even without words.
“Don’t forget me” is a voiceless declaration.
A request that doesn’t seek a reply.
It’s an act of trust.
If you loved me, I remain. Even if you can’t see me. Even if time moves on. I’m still here, somewhere inside you.
And perhaps that is the very core of the work:
not to prevent the end, but to refuse that it means disappearance.
To affirm that what was genuine cannot vanish.
Not completely.
I’m still here, just not where you used
to look for me.
