Complimentary worldwide shipping on orders over $400 · No import tariffs for most countries

0

Your Cart is Empty

The gallery does not speak; it listens.  Dust hangs mid-air, undecided between settling and flight.  I stand near the Buddha, carved and attentive, as first light drifts down the corridor like a slow exhalation.  Nothing hastens.  Silence thickens—not lack, but fullness waiting to reveal its own timbre.

Without thought the composition arranges itself.  Exposure becomes prayer offered through stillness rather than gesture.  In the latent silver of the negative, quiet gathers, coiling for a sound that will never break.


The corridor tires of echo,
night’s last shadow loosens from the lintel,
and a single ripple of light
rests on the naga’s brow—
as though silence has chosen a mouth
through which to breathe.

Behind closed lids
an unmoving river turns;
each grain of stone repeats
its vow to cradle the world
without possessing it.


Also in Library

The Crocodile and the Moon Eel: A Tide-Bargain
The Crocodile and the Moon Eel: A Tide-Bargain

7 min read

A crocodile waits in hush where river bends to moonlight. From the silt, a pearl-lit eel rises, whispering a bargain of scale and tide. What is given is never returned whole: hunger meets silence, storm keeps watch, and the river writes its law in breath.

Read More
Field Note: Blue Hour at Angkor
Field Note: Blue Hour at Angkor

2 min read

The blue hour settles over Angkor like a hush in stone. Naga coils dissolve into shadow, carvings soften into silence, and hunger without teeth endures. A sketch becomes listening. Each fracture is a hymn, each hollow a river. A field note on patience, memory, and the stillness that lingers.

Read More
Red and black chalk sketch of reeds and a single widening ripple on still water.
At the River’s Bend

1 min read

Dusk leans against the bank and the water forgets its hurry. A heron holds one bead of light. In the reeds, someone counts—commas between breaths. The river practises memory; cicadas re-thread a broken necklace. Perhaps art is only this: placing the pause so the note can be heard.

Read More