Sudario takes shape from the frottage of a Fiat Panda made on recycled hospital sheets. The car, smeared with used oil and charcoal, becomes a matrix: through direct contact, its shapes are imprinted on the fabric and pass through it, making the image legible on both sides: front and back, outside and inside. The process uses touch and pressure on the body of the car to collect its details, transferring them onto the fabric as signs of an absent presence. The sheets, sewn together, are then displayed on a metal structure that reproduces the original volume of the car, transforming the two-dimensional mark into a three-dimensional body, like a shell that recalls what once was but is no longer there, not identical to itself. It returns an inverted image of familiarity: what appears is both document and simulacrum, understood not as a copy but as a rejection of the original, a self-referential object that offers itself as a new container, devoid of the promise of uniqueness.