Paul Rovia

K flicks ash from his cigarette, a practiced, smooth motion. He doesn't look up, doesn't answer, his shoulders subtly taut.

Do you feel that there's a part of you that's missing? Interlinked.

He flicks ash again, turns the cigarette ever so slightly between his fingertips.

Within cells interlinked, within cells interlinked, within cells interlinked.

You don't look like you on the inside - miles from your baseline.

"It was the only way to keep whatever it was I had," he says, very, very quietly.