Blind believers don’t think they’re blind.
They call it loyalty. They call it certainty.
But it’s really comfort over truth—outsourcing judgment to the loudest voice, and treating doubt like betrayal.
Shattered Hours captures the feeling of time breaking apart rather than flowing normally. The blindfolded figure suggests lost awareness, while the broken watch fragments evoke memory, perception, and chronology scattered by inner turmoil. It reflects those periods of life that were lived but never fully seen, held, or understood.
Touching a Dream captures that rare moment when a dream feels close enough to have texture. The figure rises on a single point of balance, reaching upward with absolute focus, as if the boundary between sleep and waking has thinned into something almost tangible. Around them, floating faces drift like passing images—emotions, memories, half-formed narratives—while the outstretched finger becomes a sensory antenna, testing the air for meaning. It’s not chasing an idea so much as feeling it: the vivid dream you don’t just see, but sense on the skin, just before it disappears.