I landed in Amsterdam from somewhere else and never quite landed.

You start noticing things when you don't grow up with them. The cheese ritual. The bicycle traffic that runs like water. The cow in the field that everyone agrees is just a cow. The bread that comes in only three shapes. You watch a country be a country, from the side, and you start collecting the pieces that don't fit anywhere, the small absurdities, the polite violences, the canals that absorb everything without flinching, the crash on Herengracht that keeps replaying whether it happened or not.

This work comes from that. From sitting between two languages and noticing that neither of them quite holds the thing I'm trying to say. So I started making images instead. Pulling fragments from memory, from the street, from the head, from new tools that didn't exist a year ago. Letting them land in the wrong order on purpose.

Nothing here is invented. Everything here is rearranged.

Editions of 25. Numbered, signed, sent rolled.