"The overpass knows its purpose: to hold the instant taut, a moment hung between moments where thought crosses thought, where the self meets the self and one must give way."

Always arriving, never settled, she travels the city streets in a taxi, tracing the blur of lights and lives, searching for belonging in a world that pays her no mind.

“I spent the morning destroying evidence” the world mistook it for care. What else have we perfected, besides vanishing beautifully?

In a stadium of light and noise, one fig tries to learn the language of joy. A meditation on performance, alienation, and the small tragedy of trying to belong.