There are moments in which the self no longer feels enclosed by the body that carries it.
Not because reality disappears, but because something larger begins to move beneath it.

The work emerges from the condition of standing before immensity — not with conquest, certainty, or understanding, but with presence.
The figure does not reach to possess what unfolds beyond the glass. She remains still before it, allowing wonder to exist without needing to contain it.

What appears beyond the horizon is neither dream nor escape.
It is the realization that consciousness itself can become a threshold — where fragility and vastness coexist without contradiction.

Here, scale loses its authority.
The universe does not diminish her smallness, and her smallness does not diminish what awakens within her.

The horizon does not end at the world.
It begins where the interior finally opens.