Not everything unsettling arrives with a scream. Sometimes it gathers in silence and becomes color. It becomes a dense mass in which the distinction between one living being and another is gradually erased. Where the eye grows accustomed to seeing only the whole, a blindness to the individual begins to emerge. Here, a fragile boundary of life appears. The white heads still preserve a sense of individuality. The red color slowly gathers everything into a single whole — into a silent mass where the individual becomes less and less distinguishable. We rarely notice the very moment of transition. We almost never see the point at which a living being begins to lose its distinctness. It all happens quietly, almost imperceptibly — until color begins to speak for itself. Until silence becomes louder than words.