Echo Geometry

Pressed together, fragments of porcelain trace a circle around the music box’s darkened base; each piece holds the ghost of a touch, pale impressions mirroring hands now gone. A faint smell of ozone hangs in the air where dust motes drift near the key—a stillness punctuated by the cool metal under your palm. The arrangement draws attention not to loss, but to potential reunion, hinting at an underlying structure within decay. Warmth transfers from skin to cold form, a subtle balance as if cradling something that isn’t quite there anymore.