Your Phone Was Always a Bone

I wanted to show that the face, the hand, and the phone were never separate—only misaligned facets of one body. I split them into suspended shards and bound them with paradox prisms whose cold, mirror facets refract impossible warm geometries, so the boundary dissolves in front of you. In the palimpsest aperture where a greasy fingerprint (pre-event), a burning light-ribbon (active), and a frost-whitened fracture grid (post-scar) overwrite each other, the image forces the ecstatic vertigo of realizing the “upgrade” was just recognition of what you already were.