About the work

You are still damp. You’re not quite cold, but the dampness is a kind of cold in itself. It’s like a promise of something that never arrives, a sensation that just sits there, an unfulfilled expectation of warmth. You can feel it in your socks, even through the dry shoes you changed into. It’s a quiet ache, a background hum beneath the droning voice that fills the room, demanding something you don’t have left to give.