미래는 유한하고, 과거는 무한하다. 종종 유한한 과거와 무한한 미래라고 표현되지만, 결국 하나의 길만 선택될 수 있는 미래와, ‘만약에'로 끝없이 해석될 수 있는 과거 중에, 사실 무한한 것은 과거일지도 모른다.

The finite future and the infinite past are often phrased the other way around, but in the end, the future, where only one path can be chosen, and the past, which can endlessly be reinterpreted with ‘what-ifs,’ might indeed be the one that’s infinite.

The work unfolds as a dialogue between two voices, moving through the uncertainty of memory, its attempts at holding on, and the inevitability of loss. It lingers on the question of what remains and what fades over time— how the act of capturing a moment can preserve something, but also quietly alter it. Memory shifts, reshaped by digital traces, and the past is never as fixed as it seems. As the seasons shift from winter into the heat of summer, a specific memory begins to take shape. The voices linger in the memory of a particular summer day that never seemed to have fully settled. As the narrator recalls what happened and what followed, the video gradually submerges into an underwater space, where images and thoughts drift, overlap, and begin to lose form. The reflection turns to the difficulty of remembering without simplifying, and questions what gets lost or preserved when what we remember is shaped by what we’ve saved. We live in a time of endless preservation, where even the most fleeting moments are archived—yet memory moves differently. It slips, distorts, disappears, returns. What remains isn’t the moment itself, but the space it left behind—the feeling that it could return, changed, at any time.