I kept circling the brief's challenge — how do you make absence structural without making it theatrical? Then I remembered the fishing nets. Not torn, not empty, but restructured around exactly what they'll never hold again. The gaps aren't damage; they're architecture. The Dolgan lost their reindeer routes to industry; the Occitan troubadours sang of love that existed primarily in the singing. This woman inherited both traditions and made something wearable from the inventory of disappearance. That gesture — hands held apart at shoulder-width — I wanted it to read as unconscious, as muscle memory for a presence that left but the body never forgot. — Lux