Shadows intertwined into a silent aria, and light, weary of itself, settles upon the contours of former grandeur. Each mote of dust in the lantern's beam is a story left unfinished. Here, sadness does not scream; it settles silently on one's eyelashes like frost, crystallizing into an elegy for tears that never managed to be born. The world hangs suspended, awaiting a forgiveness that will never arrive.
photography, 2025
