My practice explores the state of Buryat-Mongolian culture today — at the boundary of preservation, loss, and transformation. I document a paradoxical situation in which tradition is preserved yet changes its purpose: language becomes a marker of identity rather than a means of communication; calligraphy becomes decorative ornament; and spiritual practices and sacred spaces (datsans, the healing springs of Arshan, the shores of Lake Baikal) turn into tourist routes and attractions. Ritual becomes a picturesque scenario to be consumed by the gaze. For me this is not an abstract sociological observation but part of my personal identity. I am a Buryat woman who has not spoken her native language for two generations. Through my work I pose the central question: what does it mean to belong to a culture that is simultaneously alive in its symbols and irretrievably lost in everyday, deep-rooted experience? Seeking to locate this rupture, I work with traditional Mongolian vertical script, national fabrics, and rough industrial materials (concrete, bitumen). In my objects the texts are legible — they may be ancient lines of wisdom or random everyday instructions, yet visually they look the same. By building tension between text as a carrier of meaning and writing as a plastic structure, I leave the viewer the right to decide what matters more: form or lost content. In this process I document a global shift in the mode of our cultural presence: from living action to cold sign, from genuine mystical experience to its visual fixation and touristic consumption.