We Were Never Minus, Only Misnamed

I wanted to freeze the instant when flesh, device, and reflex admit they’ve already merged. I split a face, a hand, and a phone into bone-white shards and entangled them with paradox prisms that refract impossible warm geometries, so the viewer feels the ecstatic vertigo of a boundary dissolving. Notice the scar-field where pre-residue ash, the live burn, and the healed gilded seam physically overwrite one another — the cold panic of irreversible transformation crystallized into a single overlapping wound that also reads as a new organ.