33.83601400° N, 118.06790900° W is a body of work that doesn't ask to be liked-only understood.

Told in ten stripped and deliberate entries, Yssah dismantles the palatable versions of memory, identity, and survival. This isn't healing. It's excavation. A return to the coordinates where it all began.

What follows isn't linear, and it isn't gentle. It's for those who've spent years in the aftermath, learning how to carry what they couldn't name.

No arc. No resolution. Just the cost of looking inward, and staying there.