Jacksonville began with a deeply personal story of domestic violence. There, holes numbered the walls as frequently as tears numbered my face and bruises numbered my mom. I left at the age of fourteen and returned only once to complete this project. The images can’t show their connection to my story—the significance of each place apparent to only myself. Rather, they stand in for a violence that can no longer be seen, speaking to the quiet sadness of my hometown and alluding to the subtle ways land carries and represents the memory of trauma.