In the darkness, deep within a forest, you glimpse a figure seated at a table. Smoke curls through the air. Slowly, the figure moves—hands, head—shaping sounds that might be melodies, might be words.

As the figure turns toward you, the face comes into view, is this an old man or an old woman? It is an ancient, very very old, wrinkled, like bark, like mountains and valleys, like the earth itself. The sounds are beautiful and unsettling at once, charged with a sense of grave importance, as if they carry a truth that matters deeply.

Suddenly, a torch enters the scene.

The figure takes the flame in their hand and steps forward, passing by the onlookers without a word. Still holding the fire, walking out of the forest and into the streets of New York.

Photos by Alex Romania