pyre, ash. after.
group show at art affair
beirut, lebanon
december 2025
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She had a face, the Sun.She had always watched.
She had watched every empire rise and crumble,
she would watch this one too.
But this time the wound ran deeper.
The balance had been broken not by war or drought, but by forgetting.
By the slow, creeping amnesia of a creature that had stopped believing it belonged to something larger than itself.
So she made a decision.
She gave her fire to every creature that had witnessed the malice of humans,
the ones that remembered what the world had been.
And she told them: erase it.
Not out of hatred, but out of necessity.
The way a physician burns a wound to save the body.
The way the forest floor must char before anything new can breathe.
The children were spared.
They were raised by the animals, by the rivers, by the slow patience of trees.
The hope was this: that they might grow into something the old world never managed to become;
grateful, humble, awake.
In the ash and the silence, what had always been true became impossible to ignore.
Some things must be destroyed completely before they can become something else.
