She stands under the humming marquee, a rain-slick street reflecting neon like spilled ink. Kristina Soboleva’s photograph stares back from a poster — porcelain skin, reckless smile — and somewhere behind it, a video loop of Britney Spears from a decade ago flickers: glitter, choreography, the unmistakable defiant tilt of a head. The two faces overlap in the wet glass, an accidental double exposure that settles in her chest like a chord.