In the forgotten corners of cities, old playgrounds rust under the sun, their swings unmoved for years, creaking only when the wind breathes. A mural once bright with children’s faces now fades, crumbling in slow silence. Abandoned train stations sit, their clocks eternally stopped, platforms once bustling with life now echo with nothing. And what of people, once part of something or someone? They too are abandoned. Perhaps they were once central to someone’s story, now drifting like leaves with no branches to call home.
We humans seek connection. We create clubs, join dinner tables, and chat in cafes. We reach out because, deep down, none of us wants to be forgotten. We search for homes not just in places, but in people. In this big world, we attach ourselves to communities—online groups, neighborhoods, causes—just to feel like we belong to something larger than ourselves. And yet, despite all this, someone, somewhere, always faces abandonment. And so the cycle of being seen, cherished, and then forgotten continues, just as it has for years. All of us, at some point, are left behind in some way.
