A Wound That Speaks [Endlich in die Augen schauen]

There are eyes we cannot meet, and words that strip us down to who we are not.

Part of us is born from that space, where something unnamed begins to speak.

We do not speak of completion here. It is an opening, where the self gives way to emergence. Creation here is not loud. It does not force. It unfolds, layer by layer, like words that strip away everything false until only the essential remains.

The form bends slightly in the quiet labour of becoming.