In a restrained monochrome register, a humble tabletop becomes a stage where a single banana peel rises like a collapsed figure, its folds catching light with the gravity of drapery in a still-life requiem. The dense, crocheted pattern of the cloth pulses against the bare wall’s bruised texture, setting up a tension between domestic care and the quiet erosion of time. Chairs hover at the edges like absent witnesses, turning this ordinary remnant into a meditation on consumption, aftermath, and the fragile dignity of what is usually discarded.