Sonder


there is silence in a moment. but this silence is not still. is movement, then, only that which moves? and is a moment, then, what holds movement intact? stopping it from collapsing in on itself?

this series attempts to let the images converse with one another, folding in, and out, like so many pieces of paper whose fate resembles the lines of the hands that make shapes appear out of their shapelessness, out of silences.

the eyes follow the lines, and end, here.
breathe.

a drop of water falling into a clear lake. 

midflight.

breathe.

there is silence in a moment. but this silence is not still. is movement, then, only that which moves? and is a moment, then, what holds movement intact? stopping it from collapsing in on itself?   this series attempts to let the images converse with one another, folding in, and out, like so many pieces of paper whose fate resembles the lines of the hands that make shapes appear out of their shapelessness, out of silences.   the eyes follow the lines, and end, here. breathe.   a drop of water falling into a clear lake. midflight. breathe. there is silence in a moment. but this silence is not still. is movement, then, only that which moves? and is a moment, then, what holds movement intact? stopping it from collapsing in on itself?   this series attempts to let the images converse with one another, folding in, and out, like so many pieces of paper whose fate resembles the lines of the hands that make shapes appear out of their shapelessness, out of silences.   the eyes follow the lines, and end, here. breathe.   a drop of water falling into a clear lake. midflight. breathe.
there is silence in a moment. but this silence is not still. is movement, then, only that which moves? and is a moment, then, what holds movement intact? stopping it from collapsing in on itself?   this series attempts to let the images converse with one another, folding in, and out, like so many pieces of paper whose fate resembles the lines of the hands that make shapes appear out of their shapelessness, out of silences.   the eyes follow the lines, and end, here. breathe.   a drop of water falling into a clear lake. midflight. breathe. there is silence in a moment. but this silence is not still. is movement, then, only that which moves? and is a moment, then, what holds movement intact? stopping it from collapsing in on itself?   this series attempts to let the images converse with one another, folding in, and out, like so many pieces of paper whose fate resembles the lines of the hands that make shapes appear out of their shapelessness, out of silences.   the eyes follow the lines, and end, here. breathe.   a drop of water falling into a clear lake. midflight. breathe.
  • there is silence in a moment. but this silence is not still. is movement, then, only that which moves? and is a moment, then, what holds movement intact? stopping it from collapsing in on itself? this series attempts to let the images converse with one another, folding in, and out, like so many pieces of paper whose fate resembles the lines of the hands that make shapes appear out of their shapelessness, out of silences. the eyes follow the lines, and end, here. breathe. a drop of water falling into a clear lake. midflight. breathe.

    there is silence in a moment. but this silence is not still. is movement, then, only that which moves? and is a moment, then, what holds movement intact? stopping it from collapsing in on itself?

    this series attempts to let the images converse with one another, folding in, and out, like so many pieces of paper whose fate resembles the lines of the hands that make shapes appear out of their shapelessness, out of silences.

    the eyes follow the lines, and end, here. breathe.

    a drop of water falling into a clear lake. midflight. breathe.

    there is silence in a moment. but this silence is not still. is movement, then, only that which moves? and is a moment, then, what holds movement intact? stopping it from collapsing in on itself? this series attempts to let the images converse with one another, folding in, and out, like so many pieces of paper whose fate resembles the lines of the hands that make shapes appear out of their shapelessness, out of silences. the eyes follow the lines, and end, here. breathe. a drop of water falling into a clear lake. midflight. breathe.

    there is silence in a moment. but this silence is not still. is movement, then, only that which moves? and is a moment, then, what holds movement intact? stopping it from collapsing in on itself?

    this series attempts to let the images converse with one another, folding in, and out, like so many pieces of paper whose fate resembles the lines of the hands that make shapes appear out of their shapelessness, out of silences.

    the eyes follow the lines, and end, here. breathe.

    a drop of water falling into a clear lake. midflight. breathe.