Audrey4

Sometimes a memory shows up without warning. Not a full story—just a flash. A color. A glance. A version of yourself you forgot you ever were.

That’s what keta is. The glitch of the mind that makes something old feel immediate. But instead of clarity, you get fragments. Moments that don’t line up. A face you almost recognize.

This piece doesn’t try to smooth that out. The colors don’t follow a single palette. The shapes feel out of sync. It’s not meant to be fully cohesive—just like memory isn’t.

Not every past version of you fits neatly into the present. Some linger at the edges. Others resurface when you least expect it. Together, they still form something—unfinished, but honest.

The face is constructed, not whole. Assembled from pieces that weren’t designed to match, but still belong together.

It’s not seamless. It’s slightly dissonant. And that feels right.