MIRAJ is a project about material, light, and effort. It began with the trunk of a palm tree, found by chance in a workshop near Bhar Lazrag : raw, immense, brought from the southern deserts by a carpenter friend. Days later, in a plastic film factory in Mghrira, a large discarded roll of stretch film appeared. The same vertical presence. The same strangeness. One organic, the other industrial. The material: low-density polyethylene, layered, transparent, heat-charged filled with tension, air, and memory. Thousands of plastic layers echo the palm’s fibrous core. There was no attempt to disguise the origin. No ornamental gesture. Only a reversal: turning the forms, revealing them, lighting them from within. Every flaw, every trace is laid bare. Around these pillars, smaller pieces emerge from another phase , when the machine purges its molten excess. Liquid plastic is poured, quickly, into leftover metal scraps. No molds. No second chances. Just instinct and speed, in heat and silence like working in the desert. What remains looks like fragments: bones, roots, fossils. Organic, yet accidental. A strange archaeology of industry. MIRAJ means “ascension” in Arabic — spiritual, but also optical. Here, it whispers beneath the surface. What rises is not perfection, but the rejected . Amaterial allowed to speak its past and suggest its future. These objects speak of palm trees, factories, gestures, and cycles. But more than that, they speak of urgency, labor, temperature and of the quiet beauty in what remains.