Thankful at the Edge of Silence II

A lone chair faces the water, awaiting the touch of morning light. The masked figure does not sit but listens — to the hush of ripples and the memory of voices long gone. In The Poetics of Space, Gaston Bachelard writes, “The house shelters daydreaming; the house protects the dreamer.” Here, the swimming hut is not merely a shelter but a relic of solitude, holding quiet gratitude in its weathered wood.