My work is about how we hold onto things that don’t want to be held. How I could never tell if I actually remembered something or if we just had photographs of it. Being the oldest child and needing to be a child instead of a daughter these days. Old family hordes, the few things that feel like traditions and a class identity I’m not sure exists. Time feels collapsed in upon itself and it’s easier to write backwards than it is to get upset that I forgot to memorize my grandma’s hands when I saw her at Christmas. I drive home to make sure no one needs me. And I think I’m trying to measure the distance between my family’s photographs and anyone else’s. Finding ways to reinscribe embodiment into them and maybe make a guide for how to hold onto someone else's memories so I can stop holding it all in my shoulders.