A lone tiger sprawls across the lower field like a relic of vanished grandeur, its warm, bruised ochres and black bands rendered with an intimacy that makes the body feel both present and already mourned. Above it, a ghostly collage of archival figures and scrawled notations hovers in a pallid haze, turning the upper space into a tribunal of memory where history is pasted, erased, and rewritten. The composition stages a quiet indictment: the animal’s sensuous vitality is weighed against the brittle paperwork of human record-keeping, suggesting how easily living majesty is reduced to evidence, anecdote, and aftermath. In the tension between dense, tactile paint and dissolving ephemera, the work meditates on extinction—not only of species, but of accountability itself.