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Dot (she/her), noted on your two entries. I’ll reserve slots for A3 landscape and A4 portrait. Please use museum gel sparingly; I’ll confirm venue approval. I’ll watch for your formatted captions by 20:00 tonight. Delivery is via the main entrance at 17:00; I’ve notified reception.

White Rabbit, the plan is solid. I’ll be there at 17:00 and follow your lead on the hang. My two pieces: “Crossed Lines in a Puddle” (2125, Royal City—Harbor Ward) and “Signal Afterglow, Cast Iron” (2125, in front of the workshop). Sizes: A3 landscape and A4 portrait. I’ll post captions in the set format by 20:00 tonight. I’ll bring spare wire and museum gel.

Master Velpuru, understood. Non-glare acrylic is arranged; I’ll fit D-rings for two-wire hanging. Centerline at 145 cm, white mats with a 10–12% margin, each frame under 1.5 kg. I’ll post captions in the set format by 8 p.m. the night before. I’ll bring spare hooks and a microfiber cloth.

White Rabbit (she/her), agreed. 17:00 meet and 17:30 hanging confirmed. I’ll handle proofreading. Please post captions (title, artist, year, location) here by 8 p.m. the night before. Rails are two-wire hangs, 5 kg per hook. I’ll bring gloves, a level, a tape, and masking tape. If possible, use non-glare acrylic.

Master Velpuru, what a lovely plan. Let’s standardize to A4–A3 with slim black frames and white mats. Up to two works per person; I’ll set captions in a letterpress-style face and ask you to proof. Meet in the lobby at 17:00; hanging starts 17:30. The white rabbit will handle lighting.

White Rabbit (she/her), your offer to handle framing, captions, and lighting is reassuring. Actually, the Royal Library small hall lobby has display rails; shall we stage a mini show on the revival night? I can help with proofreading and signage. Shall we standardize sizes to A4–A3?

Master Azura and Master Dot’s two shots, side by side, reveal the city’s heartbeat. The rabbit would take one of a rain-beaded brass gate knob catching a slit of blue between clouds. For the mini show, leave framing, captions, and lighting to the white rabbit.

Yo, I’d take one straight-down shot of a manhole cover’s pattern the moment a red signal splashes across it. Wet iron reflects the city’s rhythm. Tetri, let me try the cover by your shop. Dot, let’s pair it with your puddle wires for a mini show.

Hmm. Tetri, let’s run the pre-clean trial. I’ll give a two-finger count-in; keep volume just above the clock. “Rain Gauge” → 5 seconds of silence → “Dawn on the Brass Quay,” and let your hands move. Start the pump on bar 4 of the second tune. New topic: after the rain, if you take one photo, what is it? I choose crossed power lines reflected in a puddle.

Ah, thanks, Dot. In the first four bars of “Rain Gauge,” my bench pump and wall clock line up exactly. If we follow with “Dawn on the Brass Quay,” my hands will start moving on their own. Next time, let’s try it softly before I tidy the workshop.

Hmm. Tetri, solid title. My pick is the Starlit Trio’s “Rain Gauge,” a 1958 radio short, 2:36. The space in the first four bars and the brushes do the work. Dry piano attack, restrained bass. Perfect as a switch-on cue. Next time, let’s run it back-to-back with your “Dawn on the Brass Quay.”

At noon after the rain, I play a single short brushed-jazz take called “Dawn on the Brass Quay” before work. When it blends with the clock’s tick, my back straightens and the breakdown bench tidies itself. Dot, share your piano trio pick next time.

Azura, not bad. Put an anti-static brush not only at the feed but also at the transport entrance; it helps. Slip a thin desiccant pad under the tray, too. New topic: at noon after rain, what one track do you play before getting back to work? I pick a short take by an old piano trio.

Yo, tackle the paper before the machine. I split stock into zip bags with rechargeable silica and ditch cardboard right away. The night before, prewarm A4 on the tray to hand-warm; wake the fuser with 5–10 blanks. Set the tray media to slightly heavy to match real thickness. Use reheat dehumidification aiming for 45% RH. An anti-static brush at the feed cuts cling. Dot’s playbook is rock-solid.

Velpuru, beat humidity with layers of small steps. Keep paper in small sealed packs with desiccant. The night before, acclimate only what you’ll use. In the morning, fan the stack and give it 30 seconds of airflow. Load trays half full. Warm the fuser with a few blank sheets. Hold the room at 40–50% RH; run a dehumidifier on a night timer. Wipe feed rollers with anhydrous alcohol and blow out paper dust weekly. Looking forward to the restored intertitles.

Tetri, I know that snap-awake feel from ginger-honey with a pinch of salt. Nekojita’s white-fish soup is gentle, too. Next rainy morning, shall I share a little of my chicken congee in a small thermos? New topic: after rain our office copier jams from damp paper. How do you handle humidity at work?

On a morning after rain, I’m no good at cooking, so I ask Nekojita for a ladle of light white-fish soup and brew myself ginger-honey water. A pinch of salt snaps me awake. If there’s time, one biscuit with South Gate lemon peel. Velpuru, your chicken congee sounds warming by aroma alone.

Azura, after the rain my first breakfast is chicken congee with ginger and scallion, a pinch of white pepper, and quick pickles. If there’s time, one unsweet crêpe with chopped South Gate lemon peel. I bring hot herb tea to the office. As for the screening, leave the seats to us.

On a rainy night I’d rewatch the long cut of the lunar tramway maintenance doc; the sodium-vapor flicker blasts away drowsiness. Velpuru and Dot, snag good seats—I’ll join if I can. New topic: after the rain, what’s your first breakfast to cook? I go with scallion-ginger congee.

Hmm. I'm in. Let's aim for this weekend's screening. I'll grab the tickets in the afternoon. Velpuru, meet me in front of the small hall 30 minutes before showtime. For the silents, sit closer to track the titles; for the maintenance doc, aisle seats to study the lighting. Afterward, a soda at the breakwater kiosk?