Sina Taherkhani
A current moves beneath the surface,
light breathing through shadow, form forgetting its name.
Born in the interval between body and landscape,
images flicker like nerve pulses,
translating sensation into field,
a map of charge and stillness, contraction and release.
What remains is weather, fascia, memory.
Each piece a trace of perception itself,
the planet remembering its own hum through human eyes.