From Amigdala contemporary
Memory here behaves like a house with a hidden fracture: public images, family rituals, half-spoken warnings, and the stench of decaying money return as fragments of a past that refuses to remain past. Moving between the absurdity of television spectacle and the claustrophobic intimacy of inherited secrets, these texts trace how fear enters the body, reshapes perception, and becomes almost indistinguishable from ordinary life, leaving behind a haunting question about what we carry without knowing and what, even when unearthed, can never be made whole again.
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