A procession of flute-bearers moves as a single breath across a divided field, their elongated bodies and granite profiles turning music into a kind of labor—measured, communal, and quietly tense. The warm, earthen haze and stippled surfaces soften the figures into a mural-like memory, while the central seam reads as both threshold and rupture, separating intention from consequence. Against their disciplined line, the small green birds hover like fugitive notes—symbols of freedom and reply—suggesting that what is played and what is heard may never fully meet, yet continue to call to one another.