Transfixed 24 06 19 Hazel Moore And Tori Easton... ◉

“Will we be… stuck?” Hazel asked, a tremor in her voice.

Hazel’s breath caught. “An invitation… to what?” Transfixed 24 06 19 Hazel Moore and Tori Easton...

Before Tori could answer, a soft, almost imperceptible sound rose from the canvas. It was not a sound of brushstrokes or paint drying, but something like a sigh—a breath exhaled from the very surface of the wood. The blank canvas began to darken at its center, as though a shadow were being poured onto it from an unseen source. “Will we be… stuck

The kinetic mirrors reinforce this idea: they physically reflect the body back into the projected archive, suggesting that today’s individual is an echo of past struggles, yet also a constituent of a new surveillance apparatus. It was not a sound of brushstrokes or

One afternoon in late June, as a heatwave threatened the city with a slow, shimmering stillness, the project organizer announced the public reading: they'd compile an anthology and read select passages before a small audience in the old town hall. The announcement felt like a compass call. Hazel, who usually refrained from public performance, felt an old familiar panic and an equally strong, curious pull. Tori's eyes brightened in a way that suggested she wanted to be both seen and to see.