A crack in the earth,
an open wound of silence,
where skin meets soil,
and the darkness whispers back.

No answers lie in the light—
they’re buried deep,
in the quiet of shadows,
where everything is dust and breath.

Inward, the steps are taken,
where echoes linger,
revealing in the dark
truths the light won’t speak.
The mask—
a reflection,
shows what’s hidden when eyes are closed,
what remains when the world holds its breath.

In cold mud,
hands touch the unspeakable,
a nameless weight
felt in every inch of skin.
Silence shouts
what fear keeps locked away,
and the body, naked and raw,
becomes another piece of shadow.

No light exists without dark,
no truth without the lies we weave.
Being shifts like a restless tide,
a dance between what’s shown
and what’s kept in the dark.
In the earth’s embrace,
where the soil swallows whole,
the dark is seen as necessary as the light.

As above, so below—
in the depths, shadows are held close,
bearing the weight of all unsaid,
the darkness that lives
in every curve.

//

I went up to the forest one morning. I began recording video, dug a hole, and buried the mask. There was no emotion; the images spoke nothing to me. Frustration crept in. Two days later, the blood started to boil. It was drizzling, and night was falling. I returned to the forest. Water dripped from the bamboo above. I got lost, unable to find the site. It felt like a test. My mind began slipping into an altered state. Finally, I arrived. And then, what needed to happen, happened.

//

1080 vid: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1lY8vLaRSEgdRxAuo8JTbT8CeShuHxGNx/view?usp=drive_link