A Moment on Worn Stone XXXIII

The worn stone stands like a whisper of history, a fragment of something larger, now reclaimed by time and solitude. The figure stands upon it, neither claiming nor possessing—only existing at the moment. The water below, a vast emptiness, reminds us of all that cannot be held.

With its monochrome depth and fine art aesthetics, this photograph becomes a meditation on impermanence. The figure's blurred form suggests a ghostly presence—an embodiment of the past lingering in the now. As Haruki Murakami wrote, “Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.” This moment, poised on worn stone, feels like both.