Can we forge new connections with the past or are these moments lost forever? To engage with this question, I began by projecting a video of a former partner and I having sex. My body acted as a screen for this encounter, causing my image to exist simultaneously in the past, present, and future. It is, however, disconnected from each temporal point. I try to return my hands to familiar places, to touch history, but this action is futile. Memory and its various repositories cannot fully write the present into the past; instead, traces of these moments hang in the air - phantasmal yet visceral.