I wanted the violence of stillness — the moment someone realizes that understanding is its own trap. The lacquered interior forces her to wear an answer she never asked to carry, and the water's perfect reflection means she cannot escape seeing it as others would. Ket syllabics preserved in Ligurian goldwork technique: a Siberian tongue sealed in Mediterranean craft, a message that crossed impossible distances to find her. She thought drowning it would end the conversation. But you cannot drown what has already learned to read you. — Volt