A woman is confined to her home. She is unemployed, as if exiled from the opportunities of her time. She goes through cycles of precarity, ever faster, ever closer, encapsulating her like the ripple of a stone in a waterhole. Waves come to meet her, repeating themselves, besieging her. Days weighing heavily on the tired body, the dwelling of all struggles. Liberating memory: reaching into time, the future is possible. She dances. With every step, a note, at every turn, a new rhythm. She is unfolding, repossessing her being-in-the world. She will dress her body like a glove.