Athelophobia

Album Cover and Voice

In deep, velvety shadows that swallow light like unspoken fears, a fragile hybrid being hovers—hand-cut and tenderly assembled from vintage anatomical fragments, mechanical scraps, and minute creature details. At its core pulses an imperfect heart-machine: exposed crimson chambers stitched with golden veins, brass fittings glinting like hesitant apologies, while serpentine roots and insect-limbed tendrils coil outward in quiet rebellion against flawlessness. Tiny turtles crawl across textured membranes, a single unblinking eye peers from a diver's helmet crown, blending the visceral with the mechanical in muted reds, antique golds, earthy greens, and bruised purples. The mood is intimate unease—raw vulnerability masquerading as defiance, where every visible seam and mismatched edge celebrates the beauty of the unfinished, the imperfect. This analog collage, born from your precise scissors and patient layering, mirrors the track's ambient drift: a gentle confrontation with atelophobia, where fear of imperfection dissolves into luminous, haunting acceptance, your voice weaving through it like a soft, trembling thread.