Polaroids
Threshold
A digital fragment of breath and longing, caught between command and memory. Two halves, one held and one released, trace the tender edge of letting go.
Signal
A soft call toward recognition and self-trust. Clothed in late summer light, she signals: I’m here, I always was.
Loop
A quiet horizon loops back on itself, still and unfinished. The search field floats, echoing the question: am I here again, or still?
Clarity
Layered tools and a fabric thread of dahlias trace the seam between past and present. This is the work of becoming visible to yourself.
26
A feather considers its direction, suspended between weight and choice. Blue speaks of truth, 26 of vows: what rises from reckoning.
Mend
Two birds, one fading, the line between them holding tension and care. This is how mending begins—not with forgetting, but with presence.
Render
Birds stretch across a shared sky, captured in awe, remembered in aftermath. Beneath them, wall scars ask: what remains when love departs?
Penultimate
Roses gathered by his hands, offered without knowing their weight. Held in the light of today, it asks: can you see yourself now? The dahlia holds what words couldn’t, honoring what was given and what remains unsaid.
Outtake
Made in uncertainty, seen in hindsight—what was almost left behind becomes the quiet anchor. At 9%, the birds barely register, but still they move.
Me
Barely visible, but present. The final layer invites stillness—offering no answer, only space enough to ask: who am I becoming? A quiet self-portrait held in suspension, barely visible but present. This is not just an archive of emotional recovery—it’s a practice of re-seeing.
Double Layers, a story told in sky and skin, code and memory.
