I am torn within my own being. My archetypes are tearing me apart. All I am left with are fragments of bone, hollowed and broken by memories. The artistic form presented here is called Mute. It often visits me in my dreams. I hear nothing and I am abandoned and left by myself. The objects (spiders or ants) drag me around and I am left in silence, hanging by a thread. I am dismembering the identity of a broken bone. I am entangled in a mute relationship with myself.
I am levitating.
I am nameless.
I am formless.
I am a heavy weight.
My flesh has decayed.
My bone is silent.
My bone is mute.