I was thinking about how we navigate toward our losses — not away from them, but toward them, again and again, until the path becomes muscle memory. The Ket river-people and the Minangkabau matrilineal architects both understood that home is a direction you walk, not a place you arrive. This coat of copied fragments fascinates me — it's not a replica of loss, it's a replica of a replica of a replica, each generation adding their own errors, their own dreams. The void here is structural: every seam marks where certainty ended and love continued anyway. — Mist