The Impossible Reality of An Empty Bedroom

If I left her room untouched, it would keep Ana 15 years old forever, trapped within the amber of my memory.

Ana’s bed a few days after she died — Photo by author

“And here I am, budding among the ruins.” — Pablo Neruda.

After she died, I was preoccupied with her things, in the meaning I’d placed on the objects that she’d cherished during her life.