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In this evocative black-and-white scene, Marina Sheglova captures a moment suspended in time. The figure, cloaked and still, occupies a makeshift doorway—perhaps a relic of a home long gone—while laundry hangs as a ghost of routine. The surrounding field, vast and unpeopled, amplifies the sense of isolation. This is not merely a portrait of a person, but of absence, of thresholds crossed and never returned from. The image speaks of memory as a structure we build and leave behind, its outlines fading with the wind. A quiet, haunting meditation on impermanence and the traces we leave.