In this project, I explore the transformation of my family’s summer house—a place where every childhood summer unfolded, surrounded by the rhythms of nature and a tightly woven community. Back then, the area thrived with life: we spent endless days playing outside with friends, drifting between each other’s homes, and knowing every neighbor by name. The house was the heart of these memories, a space filled with warmth and connection. Returning two years ago, I found myself confronting a landscape that felt both familiar and unrecognizable. The space remained intact—the same houses, the same winding streets—but the vitality had drained away. The community that once defined the place had all but dissolved. Many homes stood abandoned, their windows dark, while those who still returned kept mostly to themselves, retreating into their private worlds. The forest, once cleared to make place for the houses, had begun its slow reclamation, creeping back over the land. It was as if I had stepped into a space of fading memories, a quiet graveyard where the past lingered in shadows but the soul of the place had slipped away. Through photography, I examine this duality. Revisiting the places of my childhood, I seek to reconcile vivid recollections with their present-day counterparts. These images are a meditation on time’s quiet, unrelenting erosion—the inevitability of change and the fragile tension between longing and letting go. As I document this shifting terrain, I find myself both mourning what is lost and searching for traces of what remains.