PESTILENTIA

Whispers gather where flesh falters.
A gaze shifts; a presence trembles.
Shadows press, patient and intimate,
marking the slow unravelling of what is held and what slips away.

Pestilence moves quietly,
not as spectacle, but as force—
an erosion that inhabits body, thought, and horizon alike.
The work lingers in the space between seeing and knowing,
between what endures and what is already lost.