Stillness Between Frames XI

A moment of dancing stillness, the arms arched like saplings toward a sky we do not see. The mask peers outward, expressionless yet charged. This is not absence—it is echo, repetition, reverberation. The shed does not loom but lingers. Gaston Bachelard wrote in The Poetics of Space, “The house is one of the greatest powers of integration for the thoughts, memories, and dreams of mankind.” Here, the home is the body, transient and luminous.