



A monolithic, windowed block rises like a mausoleum of modern dwelling, each compartment holding a solitary figure caught in private gestures that read as both ritual and routine. The crisp, gridded façade imposes an almost bureaucratic order, yet the bodies—tilted, perched, turned away—fracture that order into a chorus of quiet dissonance, suggesting intimacy under surveillance. Around this rigid architecture, the softened landscape with palms, water, and wandering animals offers a pastoral counter-melody, making the building feel less like shelter than an enclosure poised against a world that still breathes and roams. In the tension between the grid’s containment and the exterior’s open calm, the work meditates on how community is simulated through adjacency while true belonging remains elsewhere.







