١
The wall is the canvas, not paper الجدار
We treat every ground as weathered plaster — never clean white — so the mark reads as a scar, not a sketch.
٢
The trace outlives the gesture
A scratched letter is evidence of a hand that has passed; what stays is the incision, burnt and rusted into the ochre-grey.
٣
Letters return to being matter
Arabic numerals and characters are stripped of meaning until they are pure mark — texture before language, scar before word.
٤
One dimension, no illusion
We refuse the window into depth; the picture stays flat and frontal, a single weathered plane the eye cannot enter.