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Does language enable or stifle self-expression? For Eastwood, a Welsh-speaker raised in an Anglophone household, both propositions are true. His soundscapes, visual patterns, and tactile imprints grapple with a language whose meaning remains elusive.

Sound, a human voice, a mouth is moving to shape words. But this language was never heard before, though it may be familiar to some. There is even a translation: as though subtitles could contain it.   

Tongues quiver and stretch, searching. Some move slug-like past each other; some, brittle, crumble to dust.

Words reduced to shapes, stone inscriptions – petrified speech – rubbed onto paper. This language has outlived its purpose of communication, but Eastwood weaves new stories from it.

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