At my worst, I control the boundaries of my form, and yet, when divine, the self permeates the physical world. It’s true the atoms of our bodies grieve each other in death just like a color doesn’t occur alone—but takes meaning from other colors. The moon was a changeable star that ruled men’s fate. Water was green and not blue to medieval cartographers. The complexity of ochre begs the viewer to grapple with it. We are swiftly becoming an indoor species. Yet, scientists know more about outer space than the Earth’s oceans. Humans brought the natural world into their homes to combat the rise of machines. Without us knowing, trees converse via latticed fungi. Gender isn’t something one is, but performs. We are a vast assembly of nerve cells—the continents longing for each other.