Özet
A forgotten roll of film, a folder set aside for later, and people slowly slipping from memory. As my father tries to remember his late father, what returns is not a memory, but a dream. While organizing files on my computer, I rediscover a roll of film. Through photographs, empty rooms, and fragments of conversation, I attempt to gaze upon moments that once existed. When both the body and the bond have disappeared, how can we continue to look at what remains?
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