Two rabbits stripped of softness, fur, and flesh. Above them an anatomical heart suspended like a relic, a votive, or an unanswered question. It beats not within them, but between them; shared, untouchable, sovereign.

In their confrontation, there's neither threat nor embrace. These bunnies, symbols of innocence, fertility, and fancy are rendered in death, yet remain attentive; as if witnessing one another not through fear, but recognition. The heart above isn't merely a biological form, but a metaphysical fulcrum: the essence of connection, love, or life itself; displaced, disembodied, yet enduring. In the stillness between their bones, something raw and eternal persists that's neither flesh nor fantasy.