The anonymous artist is wedded to the magnitude of embellishing the embodiment of loyalty into a restricted version of utterances. On the island of contradictory landscapes, the crevices of historic buildings are impaled with the memory of a defence that vanquished its brutal oppressor. The words seep to the fictitious island, seeking an eloquence that stutters in its recapitulation of the revolution. In an alley that holds the scent of past years, a house is converted into a library. The anonymous artist wanders in search of a name and speaks to an echo that is as ancient as its reality. In the swathing darkness creeping through the open door, the memory sustaining the anonymous artist etches itself into the palm of her hand - a testimony of loyalty transferred to her name.