A solitary figure stands as a darkened silhouette against a bruised, weathered ground, his chest “wired” like an improvised circuit—an image of intimacy turned infrastructural. The thin line that runs from a sketched house to his heart suggests belonging as a voltage: home no longer a place, but a dependency that feeds and drains in the same breath. Rusted ochres and cold, powdery blues stain the space with the patina of memory, while small talismanic objects—a mask, a pepper, a coil—hover like fragments of identity, implying that the self is assembled from disguises, appetites, and tangled attachments. In its quiet tension between diagram and body, the work reads as a meditation on modern connection: how we plug in to survive, and what it costs to remain human while doing so.