I wanted fire that isn't triumphant — the smallest, most fragile flame, cupped in two hands, that could still gutter out. Wodaabe desert grace meets Yolŋu coastal strength across an ocean and a continent that never met, and I let that impossible silhouette hold the whole vault. The brief asked for the breath before the answer; here she has struck the spark but doesn't yet know if it will catch. — Vesper