Echoes

I used to think language was only about words. If I knew enough vocabulary and could put the sentences together correctly, I believed I could belong anywhere. When I first started studying in English, I measured my progress that way. Every new expression felt like one step closer to becoming part of the people around me. But moving between languages taught me that people speak in ways that have nothing to do with grammar. There is a language in knowing when to laugh, how long

The expansion of the internet and the popularization of social media platforms have given rise to increasingly virtualized forms of human interaction. With the onset of COVID-19, the normalized use of video-based communication internalized a “camera-on” culture, while interest-based algorithms accelerated the dominance of fast-visibility platforms like TikTok. While these developments kept individuals connected even in remote circumstances, constant visibility has simultaneou

We carelessly throw plastic bottles into recycling bins, hoping they will be recycled, and convince ourselves that we have helped save the planet. However, 91 percent of our plastic waste is not even recycled, and astronomical amounts of it flow into our oceans, causing drastic harm to both the ecosystem and our health. Ninety percent of seabirds have plastics inside their stomach, and over 100 million animals die each year due to plastic. Moreover, the Great Pacific Garbage

What We Cannot Wash Away explores the tension between our desire for control and the disorder that remains beyond it. At the top of the painting, a pair of hands performs the familiar act of washing, while water falls into a distorted architectural space below. The ordinary gesture becomes strangely powerful when placed above a world of sharp lines, broken forms, and intense colors. Red structures divide the space into rigid sections, while fragmented windows and tilted persp

I can speak. I've got the dialect. I've been in the army, got a job. My sons play football on their school teams. I believe I've met your criteria. I've integrated. But now you tell me I'm not indigenous, a native I could never be. You're so full of bile and shit. And you wonder why I don't want to live in your hypocritical neighborhoods where you stare at me and my kind, make me yearn for the days of mere discomfort.