Evoking the rushnyk, a Ukrainian ritual towel that marks the passages of life, the work summons touch and the dense air of a premonition, something approaching, invisible, yet luminous. It is my sensory memory of 2014: the instant when the body senses the beginning of the war, before the world names it. Between memory and oblivion, hope and devastation, I am tracing a line that still pulsates.