Second Breath is about the moment a life almost ends and, by a few centimetres, keeps going. A man has just been shot. Seen from behind, he twists away, his pale yellow body soft and almost translucent. The red line is the bullet. It goes straight through him but passes just beside the heart. As it exits, it splits and unfurls into red ribbons that curl into flowers. The red is both blood and bloom, the wound and the healing at once. The black diagonals stand for the rigid path he was on before, and he stands at their edge, between that hard road and the flowers below. Second Breath is about surviving what should have destroyed you, and finding that the place you were wounded can become the place where something new begins to grow.