X1 follows a lone heroine as she drifts from curiosity to estrangement, tracing the thin seam between sanity and its others. Water is the work’s spine: a brook, a river, a sea—each passage washing away a layer of social costume until only a vulnerable, provisional self remains. The journey is linear enough to read as a fable—lost, initiated, reborn, confined—yet its images loop and echo, refusing closure. X1 does not argue that madness is virtue or crime; it stages how a life becomes unreadable to the norms around it, and how that unreadability invites both care and control. The work asks a simple question with difficult weight: at what point does “protection” become dispossession of freedom?