This work does not remember.
It encounters.

What is present here is not the past as image or story, but the after-pressure of action—the way a space continues to behave long after intention has withdrawn. These rooms, windows, counters, and thresholds do not recall events; they retain orientations. They are trained by repetition. They lean toward what once occurred.

Phenomenologically, these sites are not empty. They are over-determined. The body recognises this before the mind does. Light falls into grooves it did not carve. Objects remain poised for gestures that will not arrive. The atmosphere thickens where use once accumulated, where time folded itself into habit.