On no foundation, resources stretch like thin membrane. Ready to snap.
Old Rituals meets new devices, dissolving clay return the gods of old back to earth,
Pigment drenches into the waters, a colorful deity that poisons the ground is born.
The being is the self, an accumulation, an impact. It is time, dirt, smoke and everything that the waters cannot digest.
It inhales the smoke, bellows immense storms, violent destruction and fiery chaos that no form of infrastructure can withstand. Steady streams of melt-water from ancient structures becomes floodwater that takes shape of a monstrous entity.
An abstract configuration of ornate silk, gold and material. Its presence is manufactured, bloated and vivid. It demands an audience.
Multi faced, multi armed, this being of time has observed, through many iterations, the slow, painful and completely avoidable degradation of land. At the point of no return, this rider on a pale horse takes matters into its own hands.
This is not an otherworldly being, called from another realm, disturbed during its slumber. It is an accumulation brought upon by scars and trauma embedded onto this land. It does not raise its sword to tear infrastructure, it does not use its claws to displace. We have already set in motion the events that brought upon our destruction.
The being is consequence, its actions are our responsibility.