Moray Place, Dunedin.

At this early hour, the city whispers in hushed tones. Silent echoes from forgotten doorways spill into the night and cast unfamiliar shadows across the pavement. In these sleepy streets, lost souls, taxis and garbage trucks are the only ones left to roam the unguarded city.

There’s something about this hour, small noises echo through the stillness of the night. In the absence of sound, everything becomes louder, strange and new. The unfamiliarity draws out misplaced memories from a forgotten past. They emerge in moments like this, when you least suspect. Walking ahead of you, impossible to follow yet impossible to ignore.

Memories are like reflections of our previous self. They aren’t always visible; some only exist in our unconscious mind.