Self Concealment begins as a tremor in the womb of darkness. The core stirs, learns the grammar of lack, buries itself, becomes soil then refuses to be nothing. It lengthens, branches, knots; cannot be contained. At last it faces itself, though only as shadows: many, watchful, multiplying.
It chooses the path and stays with it, offering its branches to that devotion. Light spreads. Darkness remains, yet cannot penetrate the way. In the place where shadow will always exist, the work declares another truth: to endure is not to hide but to appear unhidden beside one’s own shadow.