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This is a journey towards my name, searching for my identity while trying to listen to something unknown to me. There is a language of fragments that I don't understand, but it exists and it speaks to me. I want to go back to the origin, to pay attention to the voices that whisper the truth of a nostalgic place, constructed and idealized through familiar voices.

This place of memories may or may not exist, but I can't detach myself from it. It keeps coming back every time a new process, a new search begins. I want to touch the speaking spaces through my listening body. 


Memory as a rumor.

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