Boundary

This time, I was prepared.

Through the experience of Crater, I learned that the invisible could already be observed.

The frozen surface of the crater’s water became a field of inscription. A palette shaped by elements.

Each stone rolling across the ice. Each scratch left by the wind. Countless traces of particles shifted over time.

Nothing was added. Nothing was imposed.

The surface allowed light to do its work.

Perhaps it is the same condition painters leave on their canvases, following the endless evolution of thought.

Others call it art.