Noasis

It has often been noted that one’s ideal state of being hovers between the extremes of their motivations, desires, and ambitions. That too much of a good thing can in some instances prove itself a burden, or at worst, a catacomb. Behold, then, two individuals bound by (and within) the unique perils of their own excesses. On the left, a swimmer with no water to quench his thirst or provide relief from the heat of his isolation. Still, he has all the air in the world to breathe and the entirety of its surface to walk upon. Conversely, the diver on the right—although sufficiently cooled and hydrated—finds himself confined within a sealed vessel that increasingly denies him of breathable air. Thus, our actors have a choice to make (or perhaps more accurately, a choice will be made for them soon enough). They can remain complacent and captive to this dire impasse. Or abandon their perceived, respective advantages and realize a mutually beneficial solution that would afford both men ample water to drink, air to inhale, and ground to move upon. For to renounce broader collaboration and assume comfort and supremacy where only unforeseen—and oft-unfortunate—consequences lie in wait would have us all drown on the narrow shores of our expectations, no matter the context or degree.