I spent many hours in the living room of Roki’s house. I read his letters and looked through his photos from 1980 to 1984. I memorized the strokes that formed the letters of the women who had loved him.

Later on, I scanned the stack of love letters I found in a box, sorted them by year, and distributed them among the women of the CoTranspose residency to be read aloud. Seated at the living room table, I recorded their voices, gradually distorting the past.

For the local festival in Dikaia, I reconstructed Roki’s house in a room on the ground floor of the amphitheater, using only his belongings. The recordings played on a loop, inviting passersby to pause for a moment in a life not their own—yet so similar to theirs.

The human experience remains the same. How can we reinterpret memory?