JULIA Jenko

A young woman drifts through the well-rehearsed choreography of her everyday life, carried forward by muscle memory as vivid fragments of a distorted night begin interrupting the monotony. At first they are seductive and giddy, bathed in the forgiveness of intoxication and dimly lit spaces, but they quickly overlap and distort, revealing something far more unsettling than she can yet comprehend.

​

Desperate to outrun them, she abandons the train on her morning commute and instead falls into a surreal hotel carved from ice, where memory melts with the architecture and the place that once promised anonymity is stripped of darkness, illusion, and escape.

As she becomes increasingly unable to trust her own recollection, the shame that has long lived within her recruits every gap in her memory as evidence against her.

 

Trapped in an endless cycle, she is forced to relive a trauma that refuses to fully reveal itself, yet will not let her go.