The first time I confessed, on my knees, I could only talk about how I sometimes lied to my mom. On my knees, at eight years old, they made me pray two Hail Marys.

Pixelated, I become a small symbol of resistance. In the end, fidelity to the past is relative: what matters is how we look at it today, intervene, and reinterpret it.

The eight-year-old girl keeps smiling, dressed in white, while I add a touch of glitch and humor, reminding that rituals can also be reimagined.

Man, 26 years Emotion: neutral Race: white