This is the trace of a road. Painted in white to signal that it could be crossed, but beneath the broken surface remains the yellow line that was never meant to be passed. I see people in the same way. On the outside, we cover ourselves with a coat of white paint, hiding our traumas and scars. Yet when those layers inevitably break, the truth seeps out, and the wounds we tried to conceal reveal their influence on our lives. This photograph is not only about a cracked street. It is about the fractures within us, and how what lies underneath always finds its way back to the surface.