You elevated everything through your incredible sense of expression. Your control over visual rhythm, the way you use symbolism to saturate emotion… whether it’s the golden liquid running through the comic like veins, the honest and unsettling domestic details, or the imagery of the tenants’ grief sinking into the kombucha until it overflows–all of it is breathtakingly beautiful.

Separating “thing” from the sentence before it gave the word such tremendous weight. And the panel directly beneath it, with the vegetation and fungal growths both gentle and invasive, reads like someone touching an old scar. 

I’ve always been very inclined to interpret the game as though none of our choices ever truly fall outside the range of what the Homeowner himself might have done. We can be an impulse–something that stirs his anger, his loneliness, and his sentimentality within every decision he makes. Even so, when the final moment arrived, he still carried out a silent, perfect rebellion devoid of heroism. He did it. He tightened his grip over his own control. In a single instant, he overcame his weakness. But he was never truly the winner. 

Your brilliant use of the ending menu truly transformed it into a dead, cyclical interrogation. The visual tension there is absolutely overwhelming.