In While I Breathe, I Hope (04’00“, 2020) by Elene Rakviashvili, a faceless woman enters a wide river and strikes the water with a dagger. This gesture of resistance against something vast and untouchable, performed by the artist herself, shifts to the crushing of red grapes, whose juice becomes ink for writing the Georgian words for “this is a violet” („ai ia“ in Georgian). These are the first words children learn to write in school. When the juice is finally poured back into the river, the work changes from tension to release, tracing a cycle of violence, tenderness, memory, and hope. Tbilisi, Moma, 2021