In October 2020, in the midst of the pandemic, I prepared a cup of Turkish coffee every morning. Then, on a piece of fabric, I stamped the trace left by the contour of the cup. It is said that in Turkish coffee, breath is imprinted, and that from it one can read the present and the future.

Meanwhile, each night brought the counts of people who had died and been infected by COVID-19. I repeated this gesture as a way of affirming life in the face of loss, of leaving a trace of being here. Over time, the accumulation of marks transformed into a blanket: a textile body conceived to embrace, to host those in need of refuge from the constant weight of tragedy. A covering made of breaths. The work was completed in April 2021, fifteen days after receiving the second dose of the vaccine.