

In a restrained monochrome field, a towering, cross-like architecture rises from a dark, aqueous ground, its surfaces fissured by branching veins that read at once as roots, lightning, and nervous pathways—an infrastructure made bodily. Stacked figures hover in translucent succession, as if ancestry and innocence are being ferried through a precarious passage, their overlapping outlines suggesting both protection and erasure. The hard-edged geometry of walls and windows interrupts the organic web beneath, proposing a quiet collision between constructed shelter and the deeper, uncontrollable forces that nourish—or fracture—belonging. The image holds a solemn tension: a genealogy suspended above the depths, where survival feels less like arrival than an ongoing crossing.







