



A pale, reclining figure lies as if printed into the city itself, her body rendered in near-translucent tones that echo architectural floor plans and the rational language of mapping. Around her, the street-grid reads like a fragile skin—cracked, weathered, and uneven—while small red marks scatter across flesh and infrastructure alike, oscillating between blossoms, wounds, and data-points that tally an unspoken history. The frayed, earthen margins suggest excavation or erosion, as though memory has been pulled from the ground in torn sheets, leaving the body suspended between intimacy and topography. In this quiet collision of anatomy and cartography, the work frames the metropolis not as a place we inhabit, but as a system that inhabits us—recording, marking, and reshaping the most private contours of being.







