Madad by Ziad Boustani, Jessika Khazrik, Maria Kassab

Synopsis:
In my death, the one before the last one, I was trying to enact my space requirements, my air requirements, but rather found myself measuring my neck and trying to figure its color.
In my last death I realized. I can’t see my neck, I can’t see myself, I can only see my remote reflection on shattered glass inside a tunnel above which no grass grows or may have grown in another season or 720 380 years ago.
Here, I found my neck to be purple, I found my neck in pieces, and I found myself wondering; Should I go gather my neck or go get dressed?