"I have collected fragile remnants—particularly wall fragments from the Fayyad Building, facing the port of Beirut following the explosion. I see these fragments as different forms of "vulnerability." For a time, they remained stored and hidden in boxes until the seasons returned. When the moment felt right, I laid them out across my studio, listening to their stories after their long-encased silence. These "seasons" represent cycles of grief, remembrance, the right moments, the final stage of maturing, and the time for transformation. 
Through assemblage, these fragments fuse into compositions that reveal their intrinsic qualities, sometimes emulating and blending seamlessly with other elements, almost like chameleons. At times, they unify into a single entity—an alchemy of past narratives woven into the fabric of the present. In When the Season Returns, this ongoing series, I construct branches inspired by the resilient trees of Mar Mikhael, simulating the resin they emit when injured—a natural phenomenon of protection and healing. 
This journey of gathering has been long, moving through dust, ash, soap suds, and discarded objects. I've always been drawn to fragile elements with significant stories to tell; they form the raw materials of my work. Once found, I give them a new life, embracing their delicacy while fortifying them. This obsession leads me to ask questions: Is vulnerability contagious? Do we end up embodying the places we inhabit? Does daily life in a volatile environment like Lebanon make us inherently drawn to fragments and ruptures? Am I constructing a self-portrait through these clusters of broken pieces, or is this urge to preserve and merge a form of adaptation?"