Every mother,  in her urge not to repeat her own mother's mistakes, innovates in terms of errors.

By molding my mother's face into a mask, I begin a ritual: I devour it to absorb its strength and, in the same act, to free myself from it. This essay is an exploration of identity that is consumed, embodied, and ultimately expelled. It is a dive into the fusion and conflict of being, simultaneously, an extension of the mother and a unique individual.