How many times will we die
before we ever touch the truth of who we are?

This piece lives in that question —
the quiet aftermath of shedding an old self,
the stillness after the ego cracks
and something softer finally breathes.

We are not the versions we outgrow.
We are what survives them.

Acrylic, spray paint & ink on canvas

50 × 60 × 2 cm