Heavy hearts gather at the bed of flowers on the sidewalk that borders the Christchurch Botanic Gardens.
Peering out from among the petals and notes of love and support are the eyes and faces of those who died.
"Love Hope Peace For Us All," reads one sign. "We Stand With You," says another.
Local Edwin Shepherd finds a spot between signs to lay a bouquet.
"It is to show love and solidarity to New Zealand. We must stand together," he says, echoing the sign next to his flowers.
He will no longer see his friend Mohammed Imran Khan at the Indian takeaway on the street where he lives.
As he shares this, a passerby turns and shares his grief at losing a neighbour as well as a workmate in Friday's massacre.
"It's never going to be the same," he tells Shepherd.
It's a vulnerable moment between two strangers, something that is repeated countless times at memorial sites around the city.
The sites embody the goodness in the city that comes together in times of crisis. But they also hit home the tragedy of what happened and the hearts it has broken.
"We will meet again, my brother," reads one poignant note under a photo of a lost loved one.
Across Hagley Park is a similar sea of petals by the police cordon near Masjid Al Noor on Deans Ave, where two women, also strangers before today, hug each other.
One has a sister-in-law that has lost a husband.
"We're trying to support her. She's doing really well, but it's not going to be forgotten. Ever," she says.
"We are stronger, sharing the sadness, sharing the tears together."
A police woman gently ducks under the police tape and grabs a handful of flowers to take to the entrance of the mosque.
But it doesn't leave a void. Hundreds of flowers still hug the roots of the massive trees that line Hagley Park, while paper chains add colour to their trunks.
"Kia Kaha" and "They Are Us" are common messages. Candles in the shape of a heart frame the words: "The only true path is the path of love."
A nearby footbridge is lined with candles, where Abdul Khan, visiting from Sydney to offer any support he can, is embraced by two strangers.
He seems overwhelmed by the community's response. "No one passes by without saying something supportive."
Nearby is Asad Ali, a trustee of the Hawera Masjid in Taranaki, who flew down yesterday with his wife to support a family friend who lost a husband.
They decided to keep their Hawera mosque open last weekend despite security fears, and were met by a flood of Muslims and non-Muslims wanting a peaceful place to come together and grieve.
"We thought if we closed our mosque, the shooter had won in a way," Ali said.
"All the people grieving in our community came, put flowers in front of the masjid, spoke with us and got to know us. It was an amazing thing."
Up the road, at the foot of a particularly dense bed of flowers, a woman in a hijab sits cross-legged and weeps as another woman holds her.
The embrace mirrors a poster on the wall of two women, one in a hijab, holding each other under several messages: "WE ARE ONE." "YOU ARE LOVED." "WE WILL KEEP YOU SAFE."
As if on cue, the women are approached by a stranger, who takes a moment to show them a touch of vulnerability with a heavy heart.
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