some moments move through quietly, never asking to stay.  

others return on their own, carried by scent, by sound,  

by the trace of something half-remembered.  

su gibi git, su gibi gel  

memory moves like that — it goes, it drifts, it finds its way back.  

some of these pieces were written  

while the world was still close enough to touch.  

others came later, when time had already softened the edges.  

a few voices are not my own —  

yet they found their place here and stayed.