The fragments of our lives cascade down generations--torn, faded, splintered, and ossified. The remains know their home but not their names nor purpose. The memories that haunt them rattle as my fingertips grasp for their soul. The restless embers; they cry, but their smiles persist. In 2021 my grandfather passed away. I stayed in my his home in Nagasaki in which I grew up to help my grandmother. What once was a lively space filled with 17 family members became a place where my grandmother and I existed in silent memories.