The Sun That Stood Still | When my grandmother passed away in late 2019 I found myself disoriented. I first returned to her house on the winter solstice. That December, the shortest day of the year augured the longest winter of my life. Of her belongings, I cared mostly about old photos, which I grabbed without a second thought. It would take me years to be able to scan them all and open the files on my screen. In that time, I began noting how certain memories blurred and I struggled to make sense of certain timelines. Rather than fight the fragmented nature of my memories, I chose to represent it in the photos themselves by combining the archival photos to photos I’ve taken both in the house and outside of it over the years.

What started as an ode to my grandmother, quickly became an ode to the Levant through her story. One that maps across Akka, Damascus, Jezzine, and Beirut.