“Several decades from now before I go, I want my eyes to flash: mom and the pillowfort she made to nest her playful toddler one yellow afternoon, dad's laugh at his own joke, the thick Manila rain that preceded every cancelled schoolday, the sketchbook I left as a child on the plane back from Orlando, all of love's synonyms (the letters, the fresh laundry, the stickers, the notebook-corner-doodles, the babbling like a toddler as a 25 year old), coffee at golden hour by the water-surge from an opening lock in Regent's Canal, art—and lots of it. But, placing myself as an average modern-day tech-user, a quarter of those memories will be eclipsed by the deluge of non-moments staring at our thumbs fixed on the non-places of our phone screens. This work is a sort of eulogy to the memories we won't make.” — JJ