I Have Two Eyes (A Disjointed Reality)

This ink drawing stages a fragile settlement suspended amid striated, wave-like terrain, where the architecture reads as a stitched refuge—part vessel, part hive—overwhelmed by a wild updraft of grasses that cuts the page like nervous breath. Above and around it, creaturely presences (the patterned insect, the watchful bird, the leaf-like bloom) drift as emblems of an ecology that both shelters and surveils, turning the scene into a quiet negotiation between habitation and habitat. The stark monochrome and obsessive linework transform empty space into pressure, suggesting a world where growth becomes turbulence and survival depends on learning the grammar of the surrounding air.