Suspended in a hush of blue-green atmosphere, the clustered figures fold into one another like a private constellation, their charcoal weight softened by a haloing sweep of hair that reads as both shelter and tide. Above, a small fleet of kite-like shapes tugs upward on thread-thin lines, turning the vertical axis into a delicate negotiation between gravity and release, intimacy and distance. The sparse light—concentrated in small, ember-yellow blooms—functions less as illumination than as memory, suggesting that warmth persists even when forms are muted and unnamed. In its careful balance of dense bodies and expansive negative space, the work becomes a meditation on attachment: how we hold, how we are held, and what quietly drifts beyond our reach.