Don’t touch the grass: Shared Skin

I’m not a person — I’m a co-living space.
A chaotic cast of residents constantly argue inside: the artist, the critic, the perfectionist, the cynic, the child who still believes in magic, the adult who pays the bills.

Evolution happens under my skin — spontaneous, messy, sometimes absurd. Each day, a new version of me grabs the mic, and the show begins again:
today — divine inspiration,
tomorrow — existential burnout.

That’s the price of hypersensitivity.
Artists are like open systems — everything gets in.
We inhale the world’s chaos and exhale meaning, hoping that maybe someone, somewhere, will pause and feel something real.

Digital drawing, 2025