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Discovered at a provincial market in late autumn, Katya moves through space like she's always just stepped out of a 19th-century portrait — except she's looking directly back at the painter with something feral in her eyes. She photographs with an unsettling clarity, the kind that makes you wonder if she's studying you more than you're studying her.
The way her grey eyes seem to track movement a fraction too slowly, as if she's processing the room in a different frame rate than everyone else in it.
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