Wrapped Decay

In this series, apples and bananas become vessels through which a quiet violence is revealed.

Unopened, fruit appears whole, even perfect. But inside, it may already be rotting. This tension echoes the language of war—where victory is declared, surfaces remain intact, and truths are concealed. Wrapped in veils, the fruits evoke both protection and erasure, referencing Iranian women and the lives that disappear within conflict.

When a bombed school is explained away as “unknown,” and destruction is spoken of as necessity, language itself becomes a veil.

Here, decay is not hidden but exposed. The rotting flesh speaks where official narratives remain silent. The veil becomes both a cover and a memorial.

What lies beneath these polished surfaces is never victory, but a slow collapse—of truth, of humanity, and of lives reduced to silence.