Facing the past takes us to another place, where we may find or lose ourselves, recognize or miss who we are.

In the search for historical evidence, we weave traces and fragments of memory to piece together, as far as possible, an image of what came before us. We turn to the sources and documents we have carefully preserved, aware of how few certainties they offer and how large the gaps that remain.

When the truth of history is beyond reach, curiosity turns to what is missing. We allow ourselves to be drawn to uncertain data and distant recollections, where forms are no longer fixed but appear as almost unconscious, almost oracular impressions that surface from oblivion.

The past is not a territory to be mapped with precision but an undefined, contemplative space. It is an inner dialogue, an encounter that does not seek certainty but embraces the multiplicity and ambiguity of things.

The city has a living body that holds us within it. It takes shape and meaning, gains and loses value, moving through cycles of decay and renewal in a dance we all share. We are made of the same matter.
Archaeology follows that matter, studying, listening, and observing it through a practice guided by care.
Through that gaze, the city reveals itself in a shard of pottery, a sliver of glass, a coin, but also in a tooth, a scrap of fabric, a trace of plaster, each fragment becoming part of the shared memory it keeps alive.

Some traces are so essential that they slip beyond the surface of things. They vibrate beneath what we see, revealing the hidden pattern that gives form to the world.
Each person carries the memory of others and becomes part of a tradition that reaches beyond the self —a conversation that stretches across centuries, where every life continues those before it while shaping its own unique presence.

What remains reveals a landscape shaped by what is absent.
Can there be an archaeology of loss? To explore what is missing is to accept absence as part of history, acknowledging that not everything can be recovered and that every attempt at reconstruction carries an element of mystery. It is an approach that seeks meaning rather than completion.
It is a practice that honours what has been left out and what has fallen silent, recognizing that even what can no longer be seen still belongs to us. It speaks to the sacred, to the idea of transcendence, and to the enigma that lingers behind all that is lost and unfinished.