
In the tumultuous moment of an abandoned existence, he appears crawling from the abyss of pointlessness, the Snail Man.


His flesh is a mucus, alien to light and life, like the fruit of a nightmare in which time spreads and space loses its shape.


The Snail Man is a living metaphor on the edge of reality and madness, where every drop of mucus is a drop of frozen time, in a web of absolute freedom and absolute death.


