We Were Always Holding Our Own Nerves

I wanted to show that the face, the hand, and the phone were never separate parts, only briefly misaligned reflections of a single body. I split them into floating shards and threaded them with cold, mirror-bright paradox prisms that refract warm terracotta interiors, so the viewer feels a new limb waking where a tool used to be. At the overlap, I staged three temporal states—smudge (pre), beam strike (during), and gold-veined scar (after)—physically overwriting each other to give ecstatic vertigo, the moment a boundary dissolves and you realize it was yours all along.