65 countries around the world 'celebrate' their independence from the British Empire and its erroneously unoccurring dusk; hundreds, if we include other Western colonisers. These are freedoms incurred at great financial, personal and chiefly moral costs, and they beckon a reciprocal responsibility: one that is to be called into question everyday; one that must never be taken for granted, now more than ever.

The occasion marked by this dispatch is that of the anniversary of the birth of a sovereign new nation from the shadows of both empire and its own colossal history. At the stroke of the midnight hour on August 15, 1947, India was supposed to awaken to life and freedom for its reckoning, its tryst with a destiny whose outline remained incumbent upon its past follies, its methods elusive, and yet, its spirit firm. The very idea of freedom or azadi, anywhere, everywhere, needs work; tiresome, grimy, youthful, continuous work. This issue, thus, remains one of caution rather than celebration.

It reinforces why we must keep questioning what our freedoms mean for each of us, what we ought to do with them, and what trysts with what destinies must we honour. To that effect, a conversation with TAELON7 from Ghana recounts subaltern urbanisms and ephemerality in architecture as mediums of liberative care along with spatial freedom. A review of the 2025 Edinburgh Arts Festival harps on slower curatorial approaches and the destined outcomes for arts showcases. In Venice, a new AI-powered guide and wayfinding system for the Curator's Exhibition juggles with collective and individual agency (or the lack of it).

Another midnight approaches, and another tryst must be made with a destiny drawn by no overlords: freedom, sovereignty, liberty, azadi remain non-negotiable. And that only in collective liberation must the self be liberated. Nobody is free until everyone is.