Soft light between hours
A patch of pale light collects quietly beneath the gentle bend of a willow branch, its slender leaves trembling in the hush before dusk. The air is thin with old warmth and hinting cool, silence pressing softly between the slow shapes of leaf and shadow. Nothing insists itself, just the near soundlessness of afternoon passing, a moment held in the slight stirring of air and the patience of roots. Here, each unnoticed interval rests, unclaimed and waiting, like the shallow pooling of light that remains after footsteps have gone.
Light lingers where we once were.
The words behind the work“I still catch myself reaching for my phone to call you. I’m grateful for the ordinary afternoons we shared. The ones that didn’t feel important at the time. I didn’t know they were becoming anchors.”