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Infinite Tomorrows, 2020

video performance with my mother

This fairly mortal body of mine is trying to hide from the outside world. I lie and deny my own being as I want to be reshaped; to be another kind of my own self. I start performing with my mother, the comforting thought of returning back into the womb as a matter of shame. Contracted I become smaller and smaller; back into the warm, familiar, claustrophobic space. A cold hand made out of clay is pulling me out of my enclosure. I failed ‘to become’; I am still my same self.

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