D_sureal_A

In my laboratory of light, a liquid triptych is born, a dream slipping beyond reality. Three faces, three stages of the human soul, immersed in a surrealism that whispers Dalí’s name like a distorted echo.

In the first face, the eyes open and close like windows onto the unknown: trembling eyelids observing a world that changes too quickly. There is dismay, a held breath before the wound of nature, as if the face itself is trying to understand what is fading away.

In the second, the image erupts in horror. Fear. Rage. The features deform, melt, silently scream against what we have been capable of doing—and against what we continue to ignore. It is a face that accuses and pleads at the same time.

The third face closes the circle. Streams of color flow like abstract tears, recalling the memory of suspended, fragile, surreal beauty. A grace that endures even as everything around crumbles.

In all three faces, liquefaction dominates. It symbolizes the slow disappearance of humanity—not a sudden death, but a continuous melting of our forms, our values, our memories. A memory dissolving while desperately trying to remain alive.