Nights aren’t beautiful for women. They are a blazing battle ground with mental calculations, second guessing, and rethinking. They are the sight for a constant mental war which women wage within them. What will happen if we aren’t constantly looking out for ourselves? Anticipating danger? Is being alert enough?

Most often, what we are fighting against is our own imagination, which has evolved into a tool for self-protection. Every by-stander is a potential threat, and any shadow lurking on the street is not a promise of the unseen, but the terror of the unknown. Our hearts race, palms are sweaty, and the mind goes numb. But this is not a hollow feeling, not an unfounded fear. It is an accumulation of experiences we have had, the uninterrupted narration of rape and murder and violence against women that fills the news. Women are being picked from streets, being raped in running buses and being left mutilated in a way that their own family can't recognize them. But we are not the only ones watching the news right? With these gruesome crimes happening all around us, we are often asked not to venture out at night by our own families, and by the government who is supposed to make the streets safe for us. We are given instructions- what to wear, how to sit, who to speak to, and at what time. But does it matter if we show or don’t show our legs? Does it matter if we are 8 years old, or 60?

Through this project, I hope to create a window to the world, to visualize the fear we carry in our heads and hearts all our lives.