Synthetic skin I live in the middle of a flower farm and watch as plastic and mass production quietly penetrate our identity. There is no longer criticism here, only a statement of the presence of fragments, the most unsightly scraps, remnants of human activity, and perhaps of the very essence of man, shoved far away in a corner. But for me, these fragments are not weaknesses, but opportunities: opportunities not to repress, but to become whole. I take them out of the far corners and illuminate them as a full-fledged part of myself.