Across a barren, time-worn head, ants advance in silent procession, transforming the human form into a landscape of slow undoing. Their presence is small, almost negligible, yet together they become an image of time itself: patient, persistent, and indifferent. What appears monumental is gradually reduced by what seems insignificant. The image turns decay into a collective act, suggesting that erosion does not always arrive through catastrophe, but through countless tiny interventions that never cease.
