"These walls have eyes, rows of photographs, and faces like mine. Who do we become without knowing where we started from. Everything that you made by hand, everything that you know by heart, all the names that you can't recall. I will try to connect all the pieces you’ve left, I will carry it on and let you forget, I’ll remember the years when your mind was still clear, all the flickering lights that filled up this silent house." Crowded House
