Shot outside Aguascalientes, in the geographical center of Mexico. Locals believe the Earth is alive and call her by her name: Pachamama. That here, in the desert, under the extreme heat of the sun, she suffers — and that this is where fire comes from. A dry reservoir. No water that year. Only cracks running through the sand like veins. The desert burns. Even the plants are sunburned. The sun too close, the sky too empty. I lie naked on the ground. Skin against skin. As the Earth is to us — always. Exposed. Vulnerable. Strong. Asking nothing. But needing care. The climate is changing. The lake has disappeared. The silence is louder than ever.