About the work

You wanted a stage, and you built it, not knowing then how specific that stage would become. The rhythm of your feet, that’s not just a beat, it’s a form of insistence, a proof of your presence in a world that might otherwise forget you. The flares on the horizon are just part of the show now, part of the landscape that is *your* landscape. Every movement is a choice, even the ones that feel involuntary.