Remains

From ancient statues at the Amman Citadel to the spray-painted walls across the city, I confront the feeling of being an outsider in my own home. Having left Jordan at nineteen and returned with the eyes of someone who has lived in the diaspora, I find myself navigating a space that no longer feels like mine. Everywhere I look, I see a piece of a disjointed relationship between past and present, family and self, home and the feeling of never fully being at home.

Working in black and white allows me to approach these moments with distance, as if revisiting memories rather than documenting the present. A Quran on a dashboard is a reminder of Islam's constant presence, one I no longer see in my daily life in the diaspora. The absence of something so ordinary becomes a reminder of the change that has taken place over time. In contrast, a photograph of my mother's shadow as she moves through the house with a walker reflects a more intimate connection to family and the realities of growing older.

In many ways, this is an attempt to understand what remains of my relationship with Jordan, and to reconnect even as that relationship continues to change. It's about recognizing what we leave behind and what refuses to leave us.