For many years, I have been collecting my own fallen hair as part of an intimate ritual of observation, release, and renewal. Hair becomes a material trace of the self—something that is both deeply alive and already dead the moment it leaves the body. I am drawn to this fragile threshold between presence and absence, between what remains and what must be shed. Each strand feels like a discarded skin, a silent record of time, memory, and transformation. Through weaving, stitching, and preserving these remnants, I reflect on my relationship with loss, mortality, and the constant process of becoming. My work is a way of looking at my own death while still fully alive—learning how to let go in order to grow again and again.