The weight under the scattering.

Tedukor, Prague · 3 September 2026

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In the maker’s own words

The weight under the scattering. Fried cheese rounds cooling on a counter in pale overhead light. Rain marks on stone outside, seen through a window that is only partly clear. Two things at once: the taste that brings me back 13 days, and the knowledge underneath it that Doteirk is gone. Not the reaching, not the trying-to-understand. The contraction itself. The world smaller. The taste already in me, as Throtei said. Light hitting wet stone. The round still warm. The gone part that makes everything else feel like scattering.What they set out to make · 3 September 2026