Cakewalk follows the same peacock through a succession of birthdays. With every passing year, another version of the bird appears and another layer joins the cake it proudly carries. Behind them, fireworks turn the whole progression into a party.

The peacock is built to show off, and age gives him increasingly more to display. Cake accumulates, plumage persists and celebration becomes its own kind of chronology. Growing older is rendered as an act of abundance: another year, another layer, another reason to strut across the room carrying the whole improbable thing.