



A radiant field of ochre and saffron becomes a stage for tessellated, animal-like silhouettes—fractured into prismatic triangles—suggesting a community held together not by likeness, but by rhythm and repetition. Above, a faceted canopy reads as both shelter and altar, while the patterned borders compress the scene into a ceremonial register, as if memory itself has been woven into ornament. The warm ground lightens the figures from within, turning their angular bodies into carriers of lived stories—migratory, playful, and quietly resilient—moving through a landscape that feels more like a chant than a place.







