Where We Almost Were IV

Somewhere between the two steps, the forest and the human merge. There is no clear outline. The trees bend slightly. The figure bends slightly. The image is more suggestive than the form. Is this a photograph, or is it a transmission from a parallel now? The blurred edge between image and intuition is intentional—echoing what poet Rainer Maria Rilke called “the invisible place where speech starts.”

The observer’s shadow enters, silent, casting no judgment. The camera does not chase truth; it meditates on uncertainty. In these frames, identity disintegrates. All that remains is the motion of existence passing briefly through light. “Where We Almost Were” is the place just before contact—the pause before recognition, or before forgetting.