About the work

There are days when the world feels too full of things, and then there are days when the things themselves feel too full of world. A pocket, for instance, is not just a container. It is a slow, quiet accumulation. It holds, yes, but it also carries. A kind of sedimentation occurs, a fine dust of existence settling onto every surface. And sometimes, in that careful excavation, you find a glint. A moment that has outlived its purpose and begun an entirely new one, simply by being found. It wasn’t lost, not exactly. Just resting. Waiting for the light to catch it again.