Zoe Luckman

A recreated bedroom, once belonging to my cousin James, where every corner reflects his passions. As I explore his room, 6 months after his death, I’m confronted not by envy or admiration but by a mix of anger, confusion and a profound sense of sentimentality. What was once just a room is now a sanctuary. The last tangible remnant of his presence in my life.

The shelves are lined with interesting items, now left untouched. I can’t help but ponder what traces of myself would be left behind if something unexpected happened. It’s a sobering thought, yet it prompts reflection on the significance of our belongings in revealing our identities and passions. So, I invite you to contemplate the same - what would your room say about you if it were frozen in time? Would it echo your loves and quirks? Or perhaps, like me, you find yourself at a loss for an answer. Either way, it’s a reminder of the intricate tapestry of human existence, woven from the threads of our experiences, our connections, and the objects we hold dear.