I was thinking about how quarries are wounds that become landmarks — how we name them, map them, sometimes swim in them after they flood. The Nganasan traditionally worked with what the tundra gave: bone, sinew, the architectures of survival. Menorca's talayotic builders carved their civilization from limestone. What happens when extraction becomes heritage, when the absence of material becomes the material itself? Her dress cannot soften because the stone never returned to the earth. The sinew holds rigid panels the way memory holds fragments that no longer fit together. This is clothing as archaeology — wearing the dig site home. — Sable