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"If I'm not gonna be able to do art, then there's nothing else left to lose”
Disturbed
Upon awakening from the dream, I confronted a perilous numbness, convinced that "things can't get worse." I began to dismantle the resilient Sheyda persona I had crafted over the years.
The only method left available to me was to disfigure it, bit by bit, through the creator in my sketchbook—the very place where it all began. This time, I kept it concealed from everyone.
She does not look like the way we remembered at the beginning of the film.
Every day, she attempts to conceal herself behind her hair and layered makeup, a routine that persists until she eventually collapses.
Amidst the echoes of years filled with deafening screams, she finally releases them before the camera in the dimly lit studio at Northumbria University in Newcastle. Here, the boundaries between her stage performance and reality blur, and she decisively shatters the unwanted, endlessly repeated reflections with her own hands.
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