Old Wall doesn't try to make sense. An acrobat spins one-handed, straw hat clamped in place. Another balances atop a wooden block in yellow rainboots, as a ballerina cleaves the frame, rainbow fishnet spilling from her waist. "These yearn to have a voice where all else has failed." The triad owes less to narrative than to equilibrium.

Yet Abbah pushes that balance past its limits, chasing improbable arrangements without manipulating the image or predetermining the outcome. "Ordinary days and ordinary people carry the extraordinary stories we yearn for," he says. "I was just a witness to this."