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

As the figure turns toward you, the face comes into view: ancient, impossibly old, wrinkled, like bark, like something grown from 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 her hand and steps forward, passing by the onlookers without a word. Still holding the fire, she walks out of the forest and into the streets of New York.

Photos by Alex Romania