Menu
Menu
"WHAT WAS WORN AND WHAT WAS LIVED."
"WHAT WAS WORN AND WHAT WAS LIVED."
"WHAT WAS WORN AND WHAT WAS LIVED."
"WHAT WAS WORN AND WHAT WAS LIVED."
"WHAT WAS WORN AND WHAT WAS LIVED."
The mirror multiplies and rarely clarifies what I see. What looks back carries borrowed features, inherited expressions that sit uneasily on a familiar bone structure.
Thread draws its own map. Red lines follow pathways that seem predetermined.
The mirror multiplies and rarely clarifies what I see. What looks back carries borrowed features, inherited expressions that sit uneasily on a familiar bone structure.
Thread draws its own map. Red lines follow pathways that seem predetermined.
The adhesive pulls away cleanly, but the skin remembers the pressure, the shape, the intention. My body archives each attempt at transformation.
The edges between self and other, between what was worn and what was lived—all become negotiable.
The adhesive pulls away cleanly, but the skin remembers the pressure, the shape, the intention. My body archives each attempt at transformation.
The edges between self and other, between what was worn and what was lived—all become negotiable.
The mirror multiplies and rarely clarifies what I see. What looks back carries borrowed features, inherited expressions that sit uneasily on a familiar bone structure.
Thread draws its own map. Red lines follow pathways that seem predetermined.
The adhesive pulls away cleanly, but the skin remembers the pressure, the shape, the intention. My body archives each attempt at transformation.
The edges between self and other, between what was worn and what was lived—all become negotiable.