“A day is the collection of 365 days, a year is 365 variations of a day”

Lost track of time in LA. Stuck in the loop, repeating, but somehow it still pretend to be open and free.

Living through 365 replicas of the same day, time keeps moving and days do change, but totally unstoppable and insignificant. What matters if one day replicates itself a hundred times? In thousands of times of repetition, how does even one unique moment survive the dilution of time?

The photo is re-generated into 365 similar versions, then turned into collage and overlapped to vaguely compose the original scene, while the actual original picture diluted and vanished in variations.