Bones Remember
It was 3:30 AM when my younger brother broke down my door to wake me up. I ran out of my bedroom in 3 steps, as if I were never asleep. From the stairs I noticed the roaring flames and shielded my face as smoke entered my lungs. The entrance to our home became an unrecognizable cluster of wood and glass.
After the house-fire my family endured on June 1, 2021, I began documenting our experience amid the architectural evolution of our home. I often compared my family members to the structure itself: my parents resembled the towering living-room windows; my brothers, the stable chairs at our kitchen counter. The bones of the house still echo the pitter-patter of feet across hardwood floors. Memories exist in the stairs, the hidden pantry and the loft that overlooks our living-room. They are not lost, and will be rediscovered when we return.
After the house-fire my family endured on June 1, 2021, I began documenting our experience amid the architectural evolution of our home. I often compared my family members to the structure itself: my parents resembled the towering living-room windows; my brothers, the stable chairs at our kitchen counter. The bones of the house still echo the pitter-patter of feet across hardwood floors. Memories exist in the stairs, the hidden pantry and the loft that overlooks our living-room. They are not lost, and will be rediscovered when we return.
