Things We Thought Disappeared
There are certain things that quietly disappear from the world without anyone announcing their end.
Not major historical events. Not tragedies. Just ordinary things.
A sound.
A habit.
A smell.
A certain way afternoons used to feel.
Sometimes it is an object you suddenly remember after decades. Sometimes it is a place that still exists physically but no longer feels the same. And sometimes it is simply the realisation that an entire version of life vanished while nobody was paying attention.
That is the space where this book began.
Things That No Longer Exist, Except in Me is not a traditional memoir written in chronological order. It is a collection of reflections, fragments, memories, and observations gathered from different parts of life — childhood moments, ordinary experiences, forgotten objects, quiet realisations, and the emotional weight attached to things most people would overlook.
Some memories in life arrive loudly. Others survive almost invisibly.
I found myself remembering things that no longer seemed to belong anywhere except inside my own mind. Tiny tea sets. Paper dolls. The feeling of certain train rides. The way old soaps smelled. Pop-up books. Dragonflies. Factory tours. Sunday rituals. Strange little details that stayed preserved long after the actual moment disappeared.
What surprised me while writing this book was realising how personal memories can also become universal.
Even when readers have never experienced the exact same events, many still recognise the feeling behind them. The feeling of growing older while parts of yourself remain attached to another time. The feeling of suddenly remembering something you had not thought about for forty years. The feeling of understanding that modern life moves forward so quickly that entire emotional landscapes quietly vanish behind us.
This book is not built around dramatic plot twists or sensational moments. It moves more slowly than that. It pays attention to small things.
And perhaps that is exactly why I wanted to write it.
We live in a time where attention is constantly pulled toward what is newest, loudest, fastest, and most immediate. But memory does not always work that way. Sometimes the smallest and quietest moments become the ones that remain with us the longest.
Writing these reflections also made me realise something unexpected: memory is not always accurate, but it is emotionally truthful. Even when details fade, the feeling often survives.
That feeling became the foundation of this collection.
I did not want to overexplain the stories or polish them into something artificial. I wanted them to feel like memories themselves — incomplete in places, deeply specific in others, and quietly human throughout.
The book is now available on Amazon, and I think readers who enjoy reflective writing, personal essays, nostalgia, and emotionally observant storytelling may find pieces of themselves somewhere inside its pages.
Perhaps not in the exact memories.
But in the feeling of remembering.
