✦ primoh.co

Missing
Monuments.

A garden for the people
who hold the world together.

Walk with WASD or arrows. Drag to look.
On touch, use the walking pad below.

Opening the garden…
The entrance court
An open garden

Some lives deserve
more than a footnote.

We build monuments to victory. This is a place for care, patience, and futures we may never see. Twelve original proposals, imagined in marble.

The one who stayed

For the night-shift nurse

“You were not alone.”

A hand held through the hours when the rest of the city sleeps. A monument to care, and the decision to stay.

Roots beyond a lifetime

For the planter of slow-growing trees

“For someone I will never meet.”

Two hands shelter a sapling. The finished monument is the canopy, decades later. Its maker may never sit in its shade.

The way back

For the teacher who tries once more

“Let’s try it another way.”

A book open between two people. The patient work of finding another way to explain, cast in stone.

Nothing happened

For the quiet maintainer

“It worked again today.”

The bridge inspected. The patch applied. The warning taken seriously. An upright wheel held steady by the person who keeps things turning.

A little more room

For the neighbor who welcomes

“There is a place for you here.”

A figure offers a bowl beside an empty seat. The space next to them belongs to whoever arrives next.

The second draft

For the person who changes their mind

“I thought again.”

A stone rests in an open palm, lowered instead of thrown. A monument to the courage of reconsidering.

Between two worlds

For the translator

“Now we understand.”

Two figures face each other across a ribbon of words. A bridge made from listening, patience, and a voice willing to carry another.

Before the applause

For the first believer

“I see what you could become.”

One figure lifts a small star toward another. For the people who take an ambition seriously before there is evidence.

The last person out

For the cleaner after everyone leaves

“A fresh start, every morning.”

A figure pauses beside a long-handled broom. The gathering is over; the work that makes the next gathering possible has begun.

The warning

For the person who speaks up

“Please listen before it breaks.”

A raised hand and a bell that has not yet rung. For those who name a preventable failure, even when nobody wants to hear it.

A beautiful repair

For the person who mends

“Still worth keeping.”

Two hands cradle a cracked vessel, its seam picked out in gold. A monument to the choice to repair what could have been discarded.

It ends with me

For the person who breaks the cycle

“The next story can be different.”

A figure holds the ends of a broken chain apart. The empty space between them is the possibility of another future.