This series of portraits explores the fragile boundary between presence and disappearance, using tissue paper as both surface and shroud—a translucent membrane through which identity is glimpsed rather than grasped. Working with charcoal, ink, and powder pigment, I layer and lift, stain and erase, allowing each face to emerge slowly, almost reluctantly, from the material. These are not portraits in the traditional sense; they do not seek to define or describe. Instead, they trace the echo of a person—the breath, the outline, the absence. The tissue paper holds memory like skin holds light: tenderly, temporarily. Each mark becomes a whisper, a gesture toward the ephemeral, where form begins to dissolve and the self is revealed not in clarity but in shadow. This is a practice of quiet revelation, where identity hovers between the seen and the sensed, between what is offered and what remains hidden. Through these delicate surfaces, I seek to honour what slips away, the beauty in what cannot be held for long.