Like Smoke, Like Memory IV

In a world stilled before the first leaf bursts open, figures stand motionless beside a pool no larger than a footprint, yet vast in its reflection. The mask suggests a story half-told. The field offers no answers, only space. There is something comforting in this lack of clarity, as if the photo were saying: "You do not need to know everything to belong." Roland Barthes might call this a punctum — a wound in time, piercing gently.