In the grey hush of a waiting shore,
a figure rises against the endless breath of water-
arms lifted,
holding a net like a fragile sky.
The sea foams at his feet,
restless, whispering in unfinished sentences,
while he stands steady,
as if rooted in tides older than memory.
The net opens-
a brief unfolding of hope,
threads stretching wide
to embrace what may never be seen.
Wind moves through him,
through the mesh,
through the quiet space between effort and fate.
No promise is spoken.
No certainty returns.
Only the rhythm-
cast and gather,
reach and release-
a dance with the unseen depths.
And in that single suspended moment,
as the net meets the breath of the sea,
he becomes more than a man-
he becomes the question itself,
thrown gently
into the vast, listening blue.
- Object number
- 014.095
