We don’t like to admit it, but we built this wasteland ourselves — through neglect, denial, and the comfort of looking away. And while we were arguing over the cost of compassion, the smallest among us were forced to adapt to the world we abandoned them to. This series sits inside that haunting truth. These children have grown teeth meant for survival, wings stitched from loss, and eyes hardened by a landscape that never offered softness. They aren’t monsters; they’re what happens when innocence is asked to endure more than it ever should.

“Wasteland” is my reckoning with that reality — the uncomfortable recognition that resilience doesn’t come without a price. These figures carry the weight of our failures on their backs, but they also carry a warning. They are the ones who will inherit whatever we leave behind, and they are evolving into something fierce enough to outlast us. If you feel the sting of that, good. Maybe it means you still care. And from my little corner of the world, I’ll keep cheering for the ones who survived despite us, hoping we learn before it’s too late to give them something better than bones and sand.