LAYERED IDENTITY

Layers begin with the skin, and upon it we place threads of texture.
Identity is not fixed—it can be peeled back like an onion, revealing what lies hidden, or assembled, garment upon garment, story upon story.

Some layers protect, and others express.

Some are born of necessity, and others of play.
To layer is to compose—a dialogue between what is revealed and what is withheld. The textures we choose and the gestures we embody become the language of our becoming.

These layers need not disguise who we are—when carried with presence, they reveal personality. In their arrangement, in their removal, they mirror the shifting landscapes of self—fragile, powerful, contradictory, and whole.