To see is not something that happens.
It seeps, hesitates,
and lingers in the breath just before contact.
We think we are seeing-
streetlights, faces screens, the way wind turns corners.
But true seeing
does not begin in the eyes.
It starts somewhere behind them,
where awareness circles the surface like water, trying to understand the shape of glass.
Seeing is not a fixed motion.
Sometimes, it searches for cracks.
Sometimes, it allows itself to be swallowed by them.
It is not always active.

To see is not something that happens.
It seeps, hesitates,
and lingers in the breath just before contact.
We think we are seeing-
streetlights, faces screens, the way wind turns corners.
But true seeing
does not begin in the eyes.
It starts somewhere behind them,
where awareness circles the surface like water, trying to understand the shape of glass.
Seeing is not a fixed motion.
Sometimes, it searches for cracks.
Sometimes, it allows itself to be swallowed by them.
It is not always active.

To see is not something that happens.
It seeps, hesitates,
and lingers in the breath just before contact.
We think we are seeing-
streetlights, faces screens, the way wind turns corners.
But true seeing
does not begin in the eyes.
It starts somewhere behind them,
where awareness circles the surface like water, trying to understand the shape of glass.
Seeing is not a fixed motion.
Sometimes, it searches for cracks.
Sometimes, it allows itself to be swallowed by them.
It is not always active.

To see is not something that happens.
It seeps, hesitates,
and lingers in the breath just before contact.
We think we are seeing-
streetlights, faces screens, the way wind turns corners.
But true seeing
does not begin in the eyes.
It starts somewhere behind them,
where awareness circles the surface like water, trying to understand the shape of glass.
Seeing is not a fixed motion.
Sometimes, it searches for cracks.
Sometimes, it allows itself to be swallowed by them.
It is not always active.

To see is not something that happens.
It seeps, hesitates,
and lingers in the breath just before contact.
We think we are seeing-
streetlights, faces screens, the way wind turns corners.
But true seeing
does not begin in the eyes.
It starts somewhere behind them,
where awareness circles the surface like water, trying to understand the shape of glass.
Seeing is not a fixed motion.
Sometimes, it searches for cracks.
Sometimes, it allows itself to be swallowed by them.
It is not always active.

Often, to see is to be exposed,
to realize late-you are already open.
Seeing is not about acquiring information,
not about recognition, classification, or clarity.
Actual seeing arrests understanding,
interrupts language,
and cuts meaning into fragments.
The more you try to see clearly,
the more it retreats.
Seeing is a vanishing light,
constantly slipping through the moment you think you’ve held it.
Sometimes,
seeing only begins
after the eyes have given up
when the body starts to learn how to perceive
through skin, warmth, silence, instinct.
It opens where speech stops.
Seeing is not direction.

Often, to see is to be exposed,
to realize late-you are already open.
Seeing is not about acquiring information,
not about recognition, classification, or clarity.
Actual seeing arrests understanding,
interrupts language,
and cuts meaning into fragments.
The more you try to see clearly,
the more it retreats.
Seeing is a vanishing light,
constantly slipping through the moment you think you’ve held it.
Sometimes,
seeing only begins
after the eyes have given up
when the body starts to learn how to perceive
through skin, warmth, silence, instinct.
It opens where speech stops.
Seeing is not direction.

Often, to see is to be exposed,
to realize late-you are already open.
Seeing is not about acquiring information,
not about recognition, classification, or clarity.
Actual seeing arrests understanding,
interrupts language,
and cuts meaning into fragments.
The more you try to see clearly,
the more it retreats.
Seeing is a vanishing light,
constantly slipping through the moment you think you’ve held it.
Sometimes,
seeing only begins
after the eyes have given up
when the body starts to learn how to perceive
through skin, warmth, silence, instinct.
It opens where speech stops.
Seeing is not direction.

Often, to see is to be exposed,
to realize late-you are already open.
Seeing is not about acquiring information,
not about recognition, classification, or clarity.
Actual seeing arrests understanding,
interrupts language,
and cuts meaning into fragments.
The more you try to see clearly,
the more it retreats.
Seeing is a vanishing light,
constantly slipping through the moment you think you’ve held it.
Sometimes,
seeing only begins
after the eyes have given up
when the body starts to learn how to perceive
through skin, warmth, silence, instinct.
It opens where speech stops.
Seeing is not direction.

Often, to see is to be exposed,
to realize late-you are already open.
Seeing is not about acquiring information,
not about recognition, classification, or clarity.
Actual seeing arrests understanding,
interrupts language,
and cuts meaning into fragments.
The more you try to see clearly,
the more it retreats.
Seeing is a vanishing light,
constantly slipping through the moment you think you’ve held it.
Sometimes,
seeing only begins
after the eyes have given up
when the body starts to learn how to perceive
through skin, warmth, silence, instinct.
It opens where speech stops.
Seeing is not direction.

It is depth.
Not a path forward,
but a pool rotating inside.
You can gaze into it
but never cross.
So we say we see-
but we never know the whole.
We only surrender ourselves
to a process that constantly flees.
It does not belong to the eyes
nor the seen.
It belongs to the unspoken pause,
where all images are yet to arrive,
and you-quietly-
are already changed.

It is depth.
Not a path forward,
but a pool rotating inside.
You can gaze into it
but never cross.
So we say we see-
but we never know the whole.
We only surrender ourselves
to a process that constantly flees.
It does not belong to the eyes
nor the seen.
It belongs to the unspoken pause,
where all images are yet to arrive,
and you-quietly-
are already changed.

It is depth.
Not a path forward,
but a pool rotating inside.
You can gaze into it
but never cross.
So we say we see-
but we never know the whole.
We only surrender ourselves
to a process that constantly flees.
It does not belong to the eyes
nor the seen.
It belongs to the unspoken pause,
where all images are yet to arrive,
and you-quietly-
are already changed.

It is depth.
Not a path forward,
but a pool rotating inside.
You can gaze into it
but never cross.
So we say we see-
but we never know the whole.
We only surrender ourselves
to a process that constantly flees.
It does not belong to the eyes
nor the seen.
It belongs to the unspoken pause,
where all images are yet to arrive,
and you-quietly-
are already changed.

It is depth.
Not a path forward,
but a pool rotating inside.
You can gaze into it
but never cross.
So we say we see-
but we never know the whole.
We only surrender ourselves
to a process that constantly flees.
It does not belong to the eyes
nor the seen.
It belongs to the unspoken pause,
where all images are yet to arrive,
and you-quietly-
are already changed.

It is depth.
Not a path forward,
but a pool rotating inside.
You can gaze into it
but never cross.
So we say we see-
but we never know the whole.
We only surrender ourselves
to a process that constantly flees.
It does not belong to the eyes
nor the seen.
It belongs to the unspoken pause,
where all images are yet to arrive,
and you-quietly-
are already changed.

It is depth.
Not a path forward,
but a pool rotating inside.
You can gaze into it
but never cross.
So we say we see-
but we never know the whole.
We only surrender ourselves
to a process that constantly flees.
It does not belong to the eyes
nor the seen.
It belongs to the unspoken pause,
where all images are yet to arrive,
and you-quietly-
are already changed.