Often, just the idea of your favorite restaurant can get your stomach grumbling; passing the site of a great concert can sink that proverbial worm deep into your ear; walking around the campus of your alma mater reminds you of that sponge-like feeling your brain once had there, absorbing facts and figures and theories. Specific places seem to leave ghosts of themselves upon our skin, memories sinking into flesh, ideas caught in our organs, rattling around, reminding us of where we’ve been.  Latitude vs longitude juxtaposed alongside burns, surgical stigmata, heartache and grief, memory-induced laugh lines, and nights inhaled to bleary-eyed mornings unslept. Marks unseen and unsung to streaks of scar tissue lead to our depictions of different lives lived within the city limits, creating an amalgamation of ourselves. The places we inhabit, the places we avoid, the cracked window pane on that one house on that one street that somehow becomes our family.  These moments, this rolodex of sensory experiences, becomes a language. Traces left on the body – either intangible or literal wounds – morph into a recollection of events to form our own shared body map. Fragments act as relics, preserving moments of vulnerability, loss, and transformation. They are not meant to form a complete body, but rather to emphasize what it means to carry stories in pieces. By dislocating the body from its usual form and recontextualizing it as a fragmented cartography, the piece invites viewers to consider how we navigate the world, not just through physical space, but through feeling and memory.