folivo

I'm also alive, but I've never been able to experience the things that would make me feel truly alive.

So I wanted to come face-to-face with a battlefield.

I don't have the courage to go back to that particular one. I can't, anymore. Coming here is all I can do.

I ask myself, when people look back at these ruins through a lens, years down the road, what will they think?

And years down the road, will I have the courage to go back?

Scene remains silent. Her silence persists so long that Pasado can't help but assume she won't ever answer any of her questions.

She draws a deep breath and decides to leave.

Behind her comes the sound of a shutter clicking, ever so softly. She turns back around, and sees Scene put down her camera, her lips slowly curling into a smile.

This is the first time she's ever seen the photographer's expression change.

She hears her words – slow, but resolute:

'W e h a v e t o... r e c o r d i t a l l.'

'T h e r u i n s... t h e t r a c e s o f p e o p l e.'

'T o s h o w t h e m a g a i n.'