“Grace That Remains After Rain”
After the rain, she offers no display—only a smile softened by time, a lotus held in hush. This print keeps company with what still listens.
“Before Light Spoke Her Name”
Light hasn’t arrived yet, but she is already waiting. One hand holds the lotus. One breath enters the frame. Something eternal listens back.
“When the Lotus Didn’t Stir”
She doesn’t move, but something in the stone breathes. The lotus rests in her hand. Light answers a question she never asked. I keep the shutter open.
“Outside the Gopura, the Breath Waited”
Rain hushes the corridor beyond the gate. I wait, breath held. Her smile remains—unmoved, uncarved, remembering. The shutter falls like a leaf returning home.
