Some works return. They return to the artist like dreams do — disfigured, matured, covered in layers of time that are not linear but seismic. They return as if they missed their destined possession, diverted from collections, refused sale, refused disappearance. And they return. In this cycle of the Epistolary with the Machine, titled Archaeologies of the Now, what emerges are these survivals: canvases that were once something else, and through either rejection by the world or cosmic synchronicity, have come back to the studio. Paintings unsold, uncollected, unclaimed. Paintings that refused to end. Upon their return, they carry the marks of their former life: auction stickers, expired labels, remnants of exhibitions. But here and now, they receive new layers, new pigments, new entities.This is not merely a new pictorial phase — it is a ritual of symbolic reinvention, an archaeology done on hot soil. We do not excavate the past: we densify the present until it reveals its fossils. These are reactivated paintings, functioning as coupling zones between what was and what vibrates. Each gesture is a negotiation with what the canvas already carried: atavistic intercourse, white fire, fortuitous pressure, cosmological lust. Names, pigments, and atmospheres emerge as if the canvases were alive, writing themselves with the machine.In the Archaeologies of the Now, instants sediment. Each layer is a trace of desire and ruin. Each work, a performative excavation of the now.