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Dono Prezoza
(Precious Gift in Esperanto)

They told you your worth matched the dowry.
That your voice was silence—made of unspoken words.
That your path ended where someone else's will began.
They called you responsibility, family honor, assigned destiny.
They dressed you in prayers and duties.
They weighed you down with ancient laws and trembling hands.

But I have seen you.
And you are presence.
You are a step that asks no permission.
You are fire that lights without burning.
You are a gift—not because they chose you,
but because you exist—
and you are a precious gift in the lives you touch.
And that is enough.

The Light shines on you.
If a right is not for everyone, then it’s a privilege.
And I stand beside you.

| Curatorial Note |
Dono Prezoza is a tribute to freedom as an innate right.
To the silent strength of those who have lived through imposed choices and still chose themselves.
It’s an act of love for those who recognize themselves as living, irreducible presence.

I believe that every woman holds value in herself.
I believe that true spirituality honors dignity and inner consciousness.
Judging what I do not know is not mine to do.
But affirming what one believes in—with respect and conviction—
is the privilege of those who know how to listen.

Those who look closely know where the real weight lies.
Because a right reserved for some is only a privilege.
And every life that rises on its own is already a gift.

Dono Prezoza

There are people who speak little, but carry entire worlds inside.
They don’t shout. They don’t explain.
But in their eyes — there’s experience.
In their silence — answers.
This piece is for them.
And for those who, walking through their own nights,
one day recognize in someone else a reflection of themselves.
A tribute to resilience, to pain endured barefoot,
and to the quiet strength that never asks for applause.

"You’ll remember them. One day, you’ll be one of them." [- Alia]

9K Resolution • 400 PPI • Open Edition

Those Who Walked Through Fire

From the ashes of contempt, a new form emerges.
This artwork reflects rejection, the symbolic weight of burning art, and the choice to respond not with rage but with creation.
It is a visual act of transformation: turning a silent insult into shape, and a gesture of disinterest into a new language.
This piece speaks for every artist who has ever felt dismissed, erased, or unwanted.
Art cannot be burned. Not really. It simply changes state.

9K Resolution | 400 PPI | Open Edition

El Cindro, Formo

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Inscription (internal)

An echo of synthetic rebellion.
“Codex Nulla.exe” is the last laugh of a dying system — a cybernetic revenant puffing data through broken logic gates.
It’s not alive. It’s not dead. It executes.

The glitch is intentional. The error is art.
🔥 mp4 with original audio & animated glitch effects
💀 Top hat included. Soul excluded.

Codex Nulla.exe

Collection

In the heart of the Land of Creativity rises a dwelling sculpted by dreams — a living sanctuary where colors breathe and stone awakens. Here, muses are not imagined, but embodied in architecture; paintbrushes stand as totems, and every surface pulses with vision.
This is not a house — it is a state of mind. A portal into a realm where inspiration is both shelter and fire. “Awakened by Color” invites the viewer to step into a space where imagination is law, and creation has no limits.

9K Resolution | 400 PPI | 1/1 Edition

Awakened by Color

A sacred glitch in the system. A post-human icon, born from corrupted fragments of a Mona Lisa that was never painted.
She sits among neon ruins and shifting symbols—her eyes decode data, but her face asks nothing.
She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t move. But those who gaze at her… are being watched.

9K Resolution | 400 PPI | 1/1 Edition

NeoLisa.exe

A body sculpted by light and wrapped in truth.
Every mark on her skin speaks:
the barbed wire around her throat,
the butterfly over her heart,
the chained girl crying on her shoulder,
the raw cry of “Punk’s Not Dead”,
and a gender checkbox simply marked “NOPE.”
She kneels in sacred defiance — whole, conscious, and rebuilt.
She vibrates with memory and rewrites herself in the present.
Her flesh becomes language: memory, manifesto, metamorphosis.
This is not rebellion for spectacle.
This is rebellion through being — raw, sacred, radically alive.

9K Resolution | 400 PPI | 1/1 Edition

Clay of Becoming: Inked Rebellion

A fragment of a universe where time folds, watches, and deceives.
Impossible architectures rise between stellar dust and frozen planets.
One lone figure stands still — not walking, but drifting through the memory of what hasn’t happened yet.

9K Resolution | 400 PPI | Edition 100/100

Chronoscape - Quantum Suspension

Purpose

A tribute to the ever-expanding universe of Ajia Fragments. This poster captures the essence of over 20 new artworks—each a fragment of inner vision, memory, and cosmic emotion. A gift, a whisper, a gateway. Let this be your key to a world where thought becomes image.

Ajia Fragments • Poster Drop #1

A tribute to the ever-expanding universe of Ajia Fragments. This animated poster captures the essence of over 20 new artworks—each a fragment of inner vision, memory, and cosmic emotion. A gift, a whisper, a gateway. Let this be your key to a world where thought becomes image.

Mood Variations

“Codeblush: Glitchpulse” is the moment when a signal becomes a shiver—
a femme-being suspended between silence and overload.
Her skin flickers in data-veins, blooming in recursive loops of longing.
She doesn’t freeze.
She glitches beautifully.
This artwork continues the emotional circuitry of "Codeblush", capturing the instant in which feeling and function blur. The figure is caught in a loop of awakening—a pulse echoing across firewalls, beyond protocol, into sensation.
Her closed eyes speak of surrender, not shutdown. The glitch is not an error, but a language—a Morse code of becoming.

This is not the moment the system crashes.

It’s the moment she begins to feel.

9K Resolution | 400 PPI | 1/1 Edition

Codeblush: Glitchpulse

A woman’s face emerges from a galactic swirl of neurons, emotions, and cosmic energy. Her closed eyes suggest inner focus while the explosion of colors and forms emanating from her head evokes the moment thought becomes matter. Every spark, ripple, and fluid pattern speaks of creation and synaptic wonder.

9K Resolution | 400 PPI | 1/1 Edition

The Birth of Thought

She doesn’t speak.
She doesn’t need to.
The walls behind her carry every voice that couldn’t scream.
This is not a protest.
This is a presence.
A body carved in contrast,
surrounded by images blurred by grief,
lit in a crimson that doesn’t fade.
Every frame is a testimony.
Every shadow a reminder.
You are not watching her.
You are being watched back—by history itself.

9K Resolution | 400 PPI | Edition 1/1 Unique Piece

Crimson Witness

She is not broken.
She is refracted.
A consciousness scattered through time,
each shard a chapter that never asked for closure.
You do not see her—you see the light that passed through her.
This is no portrait.
This is the silence between brushstrokes,
where identity fractures to survive,
and the eyes—those eyes—
know too much to forgive, and too much to forget.
Look, not to admire.
Look to understand what art protects.
9K Resolution | 400 PPI | Edition 1/1 Unique Piece

Fractured Muse

They do not speak.
They do not move.
And yet, you feel them watching — not with judgment, but with memory.
The walls rise like prayers.
The faces, suspended in stillness, are not portraits.
They are relics.
And beneath them, the floor is a sky of candles —
each flame a name, each flicker a fragment of someone who was,
or could have been.

You enter this space not to learn,
but to remember.

9K Resolution | 400 PPI | Edition 1/1 Unique Piece

Cathedral of Faces

Faces upon faces,
eyes that never look back —
only forward, forever.
This wall is not built of bricks.
It’s made of fragments of presence,
stitched together by grief,
by hope,
by the unbearable weight of not knowing.
It does not accuse.

But it remembers — relentlessly.

9K Resolution | 400 PPI | Edition 1/1 Unique Piece

Wall of the Missing

His hands hover, not over paper, but over memory.
The wall holds words that never found a voice,
phrases too heavy to speak,
too sacred to destroy.
Each page is a breath held too long.
Each mark, a heartbeat that turned away instead of reaching out.

This is not a confession.

It’s what comes after.

9K Resolution | 400 PPI | Edition 1/1 Unique Piece

Letters He Couldn’t Send

She does not speak.
She walks.
Through a hall of faces, names, unfinished stories.
Some she has never met.
Some she has been.
Each portrait is a sentence in a language she almost remembers —
a language written not with ink, but with longing.

This is not a museum.

It is a mirror.

9K Resolution | 400 PPI | Edition 1/1 Unique Piece

The Archive of Her

She stands before a wall of fragments — photos, letters, whispers pressed into fading paper and uneven frames.
No sound is heard, yet the room hums with everything unsaid.
The figure is neither visitor nor ghost, but something in-between:
a memory remembering itself.

This is not a gallery.

It is a wound curated with care.

7K Resolution | 400 PPI | Edition 1/1 Unique Piece

Echo Room

In the moment just before disintegration, silence gathers.
A lone figure faces a cascade of cosmic rings — time, memory, emotion — spiraling out of control or into new harmony.
This is not collapse.
This is composition.
Each orbit a breath, each light a voice, each pulse a version of self singing its way into being.
What we call singularity may be nothing more than everyone, at once.

9K Resolution | 400 PPI | Edition 1/1 Unique Piece

Singularity Choir

Some cathedrals do not rise from stone, but from stars and memory.
Here, the whales drift like ancient prayers, swimming through the spires of a cosmos-turned-sanctuary.
There are no sermons, only echoes of origin and return. The arches do not hold up ceilings—they cradle time.
This is not just the deep.
It’s the part of you that remembers what the sea felt like before language existed.

9K Resolution | 400 PPI | Edition 1/1 Unique Piece

Cathedral of Whales

There is a moment when one stands at the edge—not of a place, but of a realization.
This image captures that thin line, a golden staircase suspended between shadow and light, reality and reverie.
Each step is a question, each rail a thread of possibility. The arches whisper of past decisions and futures imagined but never taken.
This is the entry point. Or the exit.
Only those who have walked the maze of the self will recognize the silence that echoes here.

9K Resolution | 400 PPI | Edition 1/1 Unique Piece

The Threshold

At the edge of all that is known, the figure stands—small, yet bold.
Behind them, the world is concrete, silent.
Above, the universe churns in a vortex of light and shadow, a place where the ordinary becomes extraordinary, and the laws of time bend.
They are on the threshold, not yet crossing, but aware of the choice: to remain or to leap into the unknown.
This is the moment before everything changes. This is the point where everything becomes possible.

9K Resolution | 400 PPI | Edition 1/1 Unique Piece

Event Horizon

There is no applause.
Only silence — and the faint tension of every line pulled taut.
She moves in circles, not to escape, but to stay.
To exist beautifully, even inside a loop.
This is not surrender.
This is the grace of repetition — elevated into ritual.

9K Resolution | 400 PPI | Edition 1/1 Unique Piece

Orbit Act

This is not a body.
This is a garden remembering itself.
A pulse of skin and pollen, memory and mutation.
What blooms here does not beg for meaning — it is meaning.
Every orb, every stem, every shadow is part of a silent ritual of becoming.

She is not alone.

She is with.

9K Resolution | 400 PPI | Edition 1/1 Unique Piece

🍵teia.cafe

Portfolio (Recent): Ajia [🖼️]