Ancestral Grip

Grit lodges beneath the nails while unearthing a stone tool from the parched riverbed. The flint edge fits your palm with an unnerving precision, as if your grip were etched into the earth long before you arrived. Each movement feels less like choice and more like a heavy, inevitable descent through layers of silt and bone. This single object anchors every fleeting gesture to a vast, slow-moving architecture of stone.