I generate a cold, inert, long-lived object that defies time: a glass flower for screaming that my body is also what I create through it. An impossible act of resistance. A ripple. Architecture of the human body, of the soft body, of the emotional body, of the eternal body. Amplified reflection of what inhabits the basement, entangled, calm, asleep. What if the reflection is the only thing the world sees and will see? Open the doors and bring everything to the surface, there is no time to lose. We cannot forget the fact that our form is not constant. If I had it present every day, I would document every second of my existence, and my appearance, perhaps. But I do not do it.