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There was a ritual quality to the installation. The room smelled of kiln smoke and resin; low hums of recorded voices—confessions and lullabies—threaded through the space. Visitors were given small clay tokens to place by works that resonated, creating a communal map of empathy and protest. A centerpiece—a large, cracked amphora—bore a stitched canvas band with names of women lost or overlooked in wars both literal and structural: labor strikes, caregiving burdens, migrations. It read like a monument that refuses singular heroism and instead honors the cumulative endurance of many.