With 𝐓𝐈𝐿𝐓, I surrender to the imbalance.
Not simply a second unit chapter it is a quiet unraveling of self, a deliberate lean into the unfamiliar. Here, I'm not seeking symmetry. I'm chasing the sublime tension between elegance and disruption.

Draped in black a color not of darkness, but of depth. I step into view, lips painted the shade of instinct and intensity. Crimson.

The world of TILT is constructed from fragments of dream and memory. A porcelain cup holds an egg, untouched a metaphor for potential, for fragility suspended in poise. Lipsticks clash in a vignette of duality the beauty and the bite. Jewelry lies scattered, no longer an adornment but a trace as if something exquisite has already happened, or is about to. Milk spills without apology. Purity, or conformity, tipped over. A lighter flickers with the engraving “take me too high” desire captured in metal, waiting to ignite. A spare key, holding a lipstick, dares to suggest that what unlocks us is often aesthetic, intimate, and deeply personal.

And then there's the horse. Black as the space between stars. Powerful, regal, and unknowable. I ride wih ease, as if the wildness and I have long known each other. The black horse is not chaos it is grace shrouded in mystery. It's the embodiment of the parts of myself I once kept hidden the quiet storm, the shadow of wonder, the beauty I no longer dim.

‘TILT’ world slightly off-center, beautifully skewed, where nothing is entirely still, yet everything has meaning. It is my artistic axis shifting away from perfection, toward vulnerability. It is the moment where elegance stumbles and becomes something more human. More honest.