Thrumming the delicate thread that connects us to the unknown ancestors who bore us, cracking into the fissure that separates us from a history we cannot touch through language, an attempt to reach back, through a duet with the imagined bodies of the grandmothers who bared their breasts in acts of embodied protest—a duet with the grandmothers still living present in the muscle, bone and blood of the mover—the attenuated outlines echoing this unending loop of separation and recombination.