In August 2025, a fight with my father ended with my fist through a wooden door, my hand torn open by splinters — the aftermath of a moment I didn't know how to contain. Over the next year, I photographed my hand as it healed: the wound, the splinters, the fading bruises, the settling scars. Watching this through a lens reshaped how I saw myself and the complicated love I carry for my family. I kept the work private, afraid of what it revealed, until a friend's reaction showed me it wasn't only mine. This series tells young men: what you carry isn't yours alone.

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