It all started from a skittish noise behind the walls. Ever so often for a few days, I was constantly surprised and stressed by this sound. Soon, the stench of something rotting made me believe perhaps a rodent died in this space. I was experiencing my personal hell around this time, and after a while, I realized what caused this pain.
At some moment in time, I realized I stopped smelling the odor. Death, the very evidence of absence has disappeared. Come to think of it, because the incident happened behind walls which I could not see, what remained was simply the sensorial memory of it. I fell into a conundrum; if my remembrance of that rodent was enough to prove that it was alive at some point, and if I can trust my memory at all.
And so, to replace said memory, I dug into my photos from my days of pain, and threaded them together that at last made sense.