Appearance and Disappearance: Rani Sharabati

Here in Jordan, something returns after disappearing; it comes from within the walls of Palestine, where absence became an exhibition in itself. The cities whisper, appearing for a moment, then vanish again, testing their ability to be forgotten. Homes rise rootlessly, reaching for a sky that no longer belongs to them, drifting from the ground that once held them close. Everything hides behind something else, a story erased, another slipping through the cracks, echoes of streets that no longer know their people's footsteps, absent spirits carving their presence in emptiness.

This isn’t a search for clear meaning. It’s an attempt to sit with those fleeting moments when a place fades from memory, only to show up elsewhere, changed, unclear, yet full of meaning. It’s an invitation to slow down and look at what’s nearly invisible, to ask:

How can we stay when the place bends away? Can presence be a form of disappearance?