You look in the mirror every day. You see yourself in the windows of passing cars, in store display glass, in a turned-off phone screen. With each passing time, your collarbones seem to become less noticeable; your cheeks, legs, and stomach grow larger. Obsessive thoughts increase: «I feel like everyone is watching me, ” „How and where can I hide?“ You avoid mirrors. Your own body now feels like a stranger’s. It isn’t you, but a shell that needs to be cut out, patched up. Censored. The censor inside you does not forgive mistakes. You must look perfect. The censor edits your reality frame by frame. And now your face loses focus, becoming unrecognizable. The censor gradually consumes you. You surrender into its hands. A red light illuminates in the darkness—the one used to cut out forbidden objects. But the object is you.




