Hecate

It is the witch cast out from the past, mutated under the influence of a simple being. Her head grew — one, then two, then three. This metamorphosis along the axis of time is something ordinary. Something more fundamental than the very act of being one, which only seems immutable. I am here and now, and it will be this way forever. I don’t tell myself that, but I feel it. Then I entered the room — unusually illuminated by good intentions — only to, as it later turned out, touch the inevitable past, perhaps karma returning. And in that whole moment of development, I dissolved into the absolute absence of absolute peace. That trembling was the phenomenon of transformation.

It began in a dream. Because I wanted to sleep, and I deserved that sleep, yet I wasn’t allowed to rest in emotional safety — for that was not what mattered most. I didn’t fully see it, but I suspected that not everything must be understood, as this was the issue of two metaphorically separate planets. Back on Earth, in my apartment in Kraków’s Podgórze district, neither my right nor left side brought rest. I tried my back, my stomach — still uncomfortable. As if the trembling was reshaping my insides, making every position equally uneasy.

There was nothing to be done, and then I noticed a shadow on the ceiling — close to creative energy — that could save me from sleeplessness. That was the first apparition of the witch. Bearing in mind that an idea without constructive execution falls silent or, suppressed, turns into a black hole — I did not allow that. Then Hecate appeared — the witch of falling leaves, the final moment of necessary pain on the path toward an as-yet undefined transformation. It was then I realized that those small transformations become irrelevant in the face of the intricate intersections of the castle of shared coexistence.

The work was created using the enhanced NEXT 2.0 algorithm and Clip Studio Pro.