Presence That Does Not Depart
A wing rises into the hush. Below it, the temple breathes. This print is not a memory of flight—it is what remains when presence becomes form.
Breath Between Stone and Sky
You arrive in silence. A wing lifts. You do not follow it—you follow what it leaves behind. Stone, shadow, and the hush that holds everything.
What the Stone Carries
Stone remembers what light forgets. A bird rises. You remain. The courtyard gathers the breath of all that has passed and all that is about to.
Quiet Ascent Before Light
Before sunrise, a bird lifts through the temple’s quiet. Rain still clings to the stone. You do not move. You feel what remains after flight.
