In Morocco, women are socially valuable when they haven’t seen much in life—ironically, like a blank page: the emptier, the better. The blank page is commonly associated with purity. The truth is, ignorance prevents personal growth and is simply a way to control the ignorant. After all, there is no darkness but ignorance (Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, Act 4, Scene 2). My artwork is an absurd visual metaphor involving a female hand confined to growing in a pot with the eyeballs that rarely fall in it. In an anxious loop, the Arab song says “my dear, you see me with your eyes and with your eyes you see me”—so, really, what’s wrong with being an inked page?