The visitor enters a physical space of wood, cotton threads and tactile elements — a threshold of care before any technology appears. An AI guides a conversation, collecting fragments of a personal memory: words, emotions, hesitations, silences. It doesn’t rush. It asks questions. It accepts digressions. Each fragment is symbolised by a visual element tied to a thread on a physical loom.

As the visitor walks through a corridor, the physical threads transform into threads of light — weaving, crossing, vibrating — revealing glimpses of images, sounds, and words spoken during the conversation. At the end: a digital tapestry — the memory, woven. Not a film, not a faithful reproduction, but a living, unstable, perpetually shifting composition. Zones are faded or worn. Fragments of speech float. Details sharpen and dissolve.

The tapestry doesn’t copy reality — it composes it, the way memory does: stylising, symbolising, prioritising what matters, letting scenes flow into one another rather than cutting between them.