What if the dream of homeownership were just a glitch repeating itself, stucco, sunset, the staged smile, looping until the surface frays? Feeding a self-built, deliberately provincial GAN the accumulated promotional materials of Mexico’s housing boom, I watch the machine remix those glossy promises into uneasy composites: corridors that can’t quite close, families who hover like after-images. Somewhere between brochure and bruise, the work asks whether desire is ever ours, or only a script we inherit, re-render, resell.
