This piece is a meditation on stewardship-how we choose to see and shape the land, and what is lost when we name it "property." It reflects the tension between development and the living history of a place. The image exists in a state of flux: the unfinished grid evokes the ongoing partitioning of space, while the drawings depict a burn pile in what was once a protected area of South Carolina, recently sold for lumber. The paper itself was made from pulp and material gathered from the burn site, with pigments drawn from ash and other remnants of the landscape. These fragments root the work in the physical reality of what has been taken and transformed. Like all imagined borders, the negative space between the drawings suggests a boundary-an illusion that both defines and limits our vision. The piece asks what it means to care for land when our boundaries, our ownership, and even our acts of making, are inseparable from the land's undoing.