A personal reaction to my own forms of escapism.
Flawed areas of myself that I believe are truly intimate.
Abstracted flesh, existential and narcissistic sexuality.
Intensified numbness, controlled and televised covetousness.
Do you feel more alive if each pixel makes up one soul?
Do you crave the human connection of a flat surface, a culmination of images?
Can you feel my emotion through the screen and space dividing us?
