It holds tension.
Between skin and object.
Between weight and absence.
It marks.
Impossible. Intimate.
Fixed in motion.
It holds tension.
Between skin and object.
Between weight and absence.
It marks.
What remains has been shaped.
Cold against skin.
Then warmer.
It settles.
It stays.
Documented in light, distance, and heat.
The piece lives here first.
The acquisition elsewhere.