Archival pigment prints, gelatin silver prints, 16mm film,
narrated prose-poems, supporting frames.

Audio channel: 00:06:30. 16mm film: 00:07:00.

Accompanied by the narrated prose-poem (played with regular and wireless headphones), the installation is arranged in the form of visual and narrated segments. The pictorial sequences of ice, water and soil coalesce with the episodes of fictional memories. Each narrated episode refers to the movements of elements depicted in the photographs, drawings and film.

Text excerpt from the audio:

"A dark stain on a soft spongy surface sinks through the visible thickness. Judging by the flaky character of the texture it could be a size of a palm.

An interruption is concrete.

She distinctly felt the smell of her hometown once — burned sugar and dust.

When the layers become visible, it is not clear what is covering and what is being covered. A layer is a process that accumulates at its own pace.

— Memory works in a similar way

She liked sitting down, watching the membranes of engine oil. Dissolution happens due to the difference in consistency. Slow patterns don't flicker to a human eye."

Text excerpt from the audio:

"a fissure emerges as a thin hair

it thickens gradually zigzagging with tiny turns forming a shallow curve

     — a first sign of tear when the layers begin to shift

At two in the afternoon of July, a split on a white stucco wall reached a dusty knapweed bush growing in a patch of soil, in a gap between the wall and the sidewalk."

Text excerpt from the audio:

"A slowed down movement appears as stillness

       wave disturbance

It was believed that water had a memory. You have to wait the right amount of time. Streamed. Frozen.

On the sixteenth day she went outside for the first time.

— Pleasant difference in temperature from the contiguous air currents. Carefully standing inside the shadow of the street light pole, she looks up.
— Variation in consistency. Cirrostratus clouds are being formed in the upper troposphere out of the crystals of ice.

Later that day she wrote in her notebook —

Fishermen when sailing out in the sea speak a distorted language. They change the tactility of speech to become invisible to the fish. My thoughts are entangled with air currents."