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Prelude: Black Pond
threads and charcoal on canvas

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What if language fails to express our incomprehensible emotions, what if texts are more than signifiers of meanings, can I speak obscurely beyond comprehension?

Disjointed events and fragments of memory intertwine with each other, without beginning or end, but with each other as a precedent. We are doomed to never understand each other, and yet we are desperate to be understood.

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