This collection is a response to the theme of “soul” and “history”; therefore, at times, I have delved into history and pursued what has come and gone, leaving an imprint on us. I have placed myself in the role of an observer; sometimes, through closed eyes, the eyes of others, the life of others, whether lying beneath the earth or filled with prosthetics, I have searched for landscapes. I have been captivated by beauty and lost in gardens and flower-filled meadows. In our contemporary history, there are many mournings that have never had the opportunity to occur. These mournings linger in our collective unconscious and, more than death itself, distance us from life. Behind these mournings, there is always a profound sense of sorrow and great shame, and this is why the ecstasy of life cannot be present in all our moments. So, I have learned that in that moment, that very moment when you are supposed to conquer the world, everything suddenly trembles and falls apart. Those times when light, color, and life are self-evident, suddenly “not seeing” becomes a refuge from the form and shape of the world. And now I know that while “seeing” is life-giving, witnessing the suffering of others is life-consuming. For those unnamed martyrs, Silent without a grave, The departed at dawn unseen, In memory of the broken or unmarked tombstones, I have placed flowers in the realm of imagination and wished for a garden.