Where there is grief, there is love; it is a turning wheel, an endless cycle running double eights. In these four stories, Ayra Sirait attunes herself to the temporalities and spatial habitance of simple [in]corporeal bodies. Death occurs in the background that no one really pays attention to, blurred to the sensation of the usual protagonist being: against a clinical white, a boy about to lose his sister paces; in an empty parking lot, an angry slam disrupts the quiet and a girl decides a lie ...