In this piece, Honey returns to the woman who shaped her earliest world: her mother. A figure suspended between deep religious devotion and a raw, earthbound spirituality. She appears with a radiant illusion-paper halo… the symbol of holiness she wore, and the reminder that the stories defining their lives were never as absolute as they seemed.

From that halo bursts a vivid red bloom… life force, lineage, and emotion erupting through layers of doctrine. It is the mother as Honey remembers her: devout, intuitive, and quietly powerful in ways that never fit the roles imposed on her.

Cradled in her lap is infant Honey, though her head has been replaced entirely by a television displaying a cherry pie. It’s an early lesson rendered surreal… identity served through sweetness, story, expectation… a life narrated before she could speak for herself.

Beneath them, the entire foundation dissolves into blurred illusion paper, like static humming under memory. It is the ground they lived on… religion, shame, purity culture, secrets… all shifting constantly beneath their feet.

Carved into that unstable terrain is a single pit, and within it rests a half-peeled apple. The apple of original sin. The peel unfinished. The inherited labor of “purity” and a story neither she nor her mother even chose, passed down long before she understood its weight. Buried inside illusion paper, it becomes a relic of a belief system built on contradictions and impossible expectations.

This piece is a portrait of mother and daughter bound by love, rupture, myth, and awakening. A meditation on lineage… and the long process of unlearning what was never ours to carry.