Derealized

There’s a moment when everything looks real but stops feeling that way—when the air thickens, the world softens at the edges, and even your own skin feels like borrowed fabric.

That’s what this piece came from.

The girl isn’t sad so much as disconnected, like she wandered out of herself and forgot the way back. The smaller figures hover between comfort and distortion—half memory, half witness. Their faces, like floating echoes, don’t mean to haunt her… but they do.

It’s quiet here. Too quiet.

And that quiet has weight.

~mandijune