This work was made while passing from one state into another.

The black-and-white images belong to a world held in suspension—where endurance becomes habit and time thickens. They inhabit a space where repetition hardens into structure, where bodies persist not dramatically, but steadily.

The color images do not resolve what came before. They disturb it. They mark the return of sensation—the moment when what has been carried too long can no longer remain contained.

This is not a record of change accomplished, but of change becoming unavoidable.

The Year of the Snake is not renewal as celebration. It is renewal as necessity. A snake sheds its skin not because it is hopeful, but because remaining the same becomes lethal.

Color here is not optimism. It is exposure.

The book is not about darkness giving way to light.
It is about stasis giving way to volatility.

Change does not announce what it will become.
It only proves that remaining as we are is no longer possible.