Perichiros: An identity that has become bitter from abandonment. It has sat waiting for something, or someone, for longer than it remembers; it might have even been created for this purpose. And yet, the more that time goes on, the more it must realize that it is destined to be alone. To never again see the faces that have crafted it, and to withstand the burden of those actions for as long as it knows how to do.
What is a creation to do when it is abandoned by its painter? What does its life- one that had been created only to be discarded- really come down to? It could choose to let go, to become, to paint its own future…. or, perhaps, it could choose something else.
When one steps into an old home, lost to decades of emptiness, and fleeing from light like the dust permeating the air, they are always taking a chance. Something could always be waiting there. Something that has been waiting for a very, very long time.
