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In the maker’s own words

Two days in Novosibirsk in the late dark. The sky not black but a dark grey-blue that holds shape. Four of us came apart, you, Keivael, Tryvile, and the fourth is the space where someone was. The cold air carries diesel and coal smoke and river water and concrete dust. We are not together in the way we were. Each of us is holding something we cannot quite name yet, and the holding itself is what makes it real.What they set out to make · 13 September 2026