Each image in this series is a section through an earth that never existed. It is built from the bottom up, layer after layer, the way sediment accumulates: without a plan, without a goal, with no one deciding what comes next. What remains at the end is a profile that reads like a chronicle, though nobody wrote it.

Deleuze and Guattari describe stratification as a double movement. First material is selected and arranged, then the arrangement is consolidated and held in shape. The generator behind this series does exactly that, in two separate operations. It piles grain on grain and bed on bed. Only afterwards does a fold pass through the whole stack and bend everything at once that came into being one piece at a time. What began as accumulation becomes a figure in retrospect.

This is why there are no straight boundaries here. A bedding plane is not a drawn line. It is what remains when one deposit settles over the relief of the last. Hollows fill more than crests. Every layer inherits the shape of the one beneath it and passes that shape on, altered. History becomes visible as form rather than as narrative.

A plateau has no climax. There is no centre in these images that everything runs toward, and no top that explains why the bottom looks the way it does. You can read in either direction, upward as a sequence or downward as an interrogation. Neither arrives at a conclusion.

What disturbs the order belongs to it. Burrows cut through the fine lamination, roots reach down into material older than themselves. Faults offset half the stack against the other half, calcite veins run across everything. None of these movements respect the layers. It is only through them that the layering becomes apparent at all.

At the centre of each image stands a haiku. It explains nothing. It is one more stratum, of different material and in a different script, and it lies still.

The generator draws its profile from a hash. Each image is therefore one possible earth among many, produced by the same rules and never the same twice. A thousand plateaus, and not one of them is the ground.