Echo

There are moments when time seems to stand still. Moments in which words feel too much to express, yet insufficient to make sense of it all. Moments when one is lost within a deafening silence.

In such moments, one seeks not consolation, but an echo to accompany one's silence, holding on the hope of reaching a trace of something that one knows can no longer be found in reality.

I suppose this is what longing for those whose presence has become woven into our lives is: not an absence, but an echo. Bringing into being, over and over again, a smile, a voice, a touch, a feeling—a person. An attempt to transform loss not into an irreplaceable emptiness, but into an endless form of existence.

This time, I sat at the piano—one of my oldest companions—with the hope of hearing an echo of my grandmother's presence.

To listen:

Original song: Remembrance
Artist: Balmorhea

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