The wall.الجدار.

The question is in the title and the painting refuses to answer it. The same lines that bind the faces together are the lines that cage them. Connection and capture are drawn with one stroke.

A person assembled entirely out of boxes, sitting on another box. The head is calm because the body has already agreed to the shape it was given.

No single figure, only the weave. Every cell has its own small window and its own small eye, and the whole thing holds together because none of the parts can leave. A hive is a collective that forgot it had members.

A face kept in pieces. The parts are all present and none of them are speaking to each other. The portrait of a self that did not finish gathering.

The darkest of the crowd paintings. Everywhere you look something is already looking back. Being seen and being watched are the same condition here.

The face is still and the world behind it is falling at speed. The eye is closed because the only way to hold a pace like that is to stop looking at it.

The naming is left to whoever stands in front of it. The painting is finished. The title is the one part handed back to the viewer.

The claim is repeated twice because once is not enough to believe it. The figure is limitless the way a crowd is limitless, by being made of too many selves to count.

Calmer than the hive. Here the connection is chosen, two figures sharing a border instead of being crushed into one. The earth tone lets them breathe.

A demand more than a title. The figures are packed against their little houses, and the painting asks for the one thing the composition will not give them, room.

The announcement is calm and the faces are not. Something has finished and no one in the picture is sure they wanted it to.

Two questions, no map. The figures are placed clearly on the page and still do not know where they are. Being located is not the same as being found.

Every figure is mostly doors. None of them are open. The possibility of exit is built into the body and never used.

Nature drawn as three planted figures, half tree and half person, rooted to thin stems. Whatever grows here grew on purpose and cannot move.

The exhaustion of stillness. The figure has done nothing and is worn out by it, ringed in color it did not ask for. Idleness is not rest.

Error at the top, a trail underneath, the sentence cut off mid-word. The mind glitches and the body keeps walking the path anyway, unfinished.

The most inward of the set. The figure folds over its own hands and the question hangs unanswered in the dark around it. No crowd, just the one self asking.

The clearest figure in the body of work, given the hardest question. Two mismatched wings, both arms open, and no settled answer about when the self arrives.

A chart of faces, each a candidate for the same person. The question assumes you have to pick. The painting suspects you do not get to.

The title is an apology and a defense at once. The figure stays connected to the others by effort, holding a position that takes everything it has.

A bond and a binding share a sound and the painting hears both. Fate ties the figures so tightly that affection and imprisonment are no longer separable.

The faces at the bottom have more life in them than the three at the top. The painting knows this and does not try to fix it.

A figure steps forward out of a blue opening while the edges of the page still burn with where it came from. The void is not empty. It is the doorway the self walks out of.

A totem of faces stacked into one body, each with its own eyes, none of them looking the same way. The word at the foot of it reads disconnected.

Eyes everywhere, watching and watched. A crowd of faces pressed flat against the surface until there is no room left to look away.

Two figures standing close, drawn plainly. The closeness is in the posture, not in the faces.

A figure folded out of color blocks, the face calm at the top. The word love is buried in the surface rather than declared on it.

A tower of faces in cool color, each one set into the next. Whatever success is here, it is built out of other people.

A bright figure with the words let, just, leave set down its side, and a tangle of scribbled line beside it that will not settle.

Written and Performed by Milo & Andrew Amir (@andrew_amir21). Produced/M&M by Milo. Special thanks to @mazenelnoby for helping. Artwork by Sanad Alrashidi (S.R) (@seennnr).

Written and Performed by Milo. Produced by Milo. Mixed by Milo, @anasoxide, and @hamzaramyfadl. Mastered by @anasoxide. Artwork by Sanad Alrashidi (S.R) (@seennnr).

Written and Performed by Milo & @ma.beyn. Produced/M&M by Milo. Special thanks to @vestbeats and @adam.momenn. Artwork by Sanad Alrashidi (S.R) (@seennnr).

Written and performed by Milo & @da9ud.flc. Produced by Milo. Mixed by Milo & @hila.gdn. Mastered by Milo. Artwork by Sanad Alrashidi (S.R) (@seennnr).

Written and performed by Milo & @bavo.6. Produced/Mixed by Milo & @vestbeats. Mastered by Milo. Artwork by Sanad Alrashidi (S.R) (@seennnr).

Written and performed by Milo & @da9ud.flc. Produced by Milo. Mixed by Milo & @da9ud.flc. Mastered by Milo. Artwork by Sanad Alrashidi (S.R) (@seennnr).

Written & Composed by Milo. Performed by Milo & @hasnaaaa.__. Produced/M&M by Milo. Special thanks to @hila.gdn. Artwork by Sanad Alrashidi (S.R) (@seennnr).

A collaboration with @lavi0let.

A collaboration with @xc99ic.