Abandoned interiors are places where time no longer moves in a linear way. Walls give in, objects lose their function, and space becomes a field of overlap between what was lived and what is no longer present.

In this series, through motion blur and the superimposition of the body, figures emerge that never fully settle in space—shadows, ghosts, traces of movement. They are not literal representations of spirits, but visual materializations of memory insisting on remaining.

Two bodies move through these spaces, identified by yellow coats. The color acts as a thread of continuity between the visible and the invisible, between the present and what has already dissolved. The bodies do not fully occupy the space; they pass through it, merging with it, as if they too were in the process of disappearance.

The love story is not narrated as an event, but as a shared permanence. The act of being together within ruin becomes a silent form of complicity in the face of inevitable loss. Love, here, is an acceptance of impermanence.

These images function as pages from a diary that records not facts, but states of consciousness. Each photograph suspends time and suggests that everything that was lived remains only as a trace—a presence that cannot be touched, yet continues to exist.

This series is not only about abandoned houses, but about what we inevitably leave behind.

In the end, nothing truly belongs to us: only memories in motion remain.