The World of Candy Floss
Sweetness blooms on scorched ground.
They say the rain here tastes like sugar.
That the wind is spun from silk and laughter.
And that if you listen carefully, the soil hums lullabies to the youngest workers.
But Candy Floss was never a place for children.
It was a place of children.
A sweet surface hides a bitter core.
Candy Floss Land was designed to dazzle — pastel skies, floating cities, endless fields of spun sugar. But behind the shimmer lies a system built on extraction, silence, and suffering. The land is beautiful only to those who never bend down and touch the soil.
Sugar grows unnaturally fast, fueled by chemical injections and soil-stripping engines. Fields bloom, then collapse. Nothing is left but ash and profit.
The landscape is a factory in disguise, and the colors are designed to distract.
Everything here is grown to please — to look good, to taste better, to sell fastest.
The Extraction Fields
The Lost Children
They call them flosslings.
Raised in the shadow of the refineries, these children are born into labor, not life.
They are small, fast, silent — chosen for the precision needed in the sugar-harvesting plants. Their laughter is used in ads. Their pain is not recorded.
The War That Followed
It was never sustainable.
The soil broke. The children grew angry. The illusion cracked.
What followed was called the Sugar War — an uprising, a collapse, a reckoning.
This Is What Remains
This series collects the visual residue of Candy Floss — not as it was sold, but as it was lived.
