дверь без двери в море настежь, уходящей в горизонт …

Ephemerality of Reflection

For many years now, whenever I see a deserted seashore, I envision a solitary doorframe – as if its very absence of a door opens a passage into something other, a space entirely distinct. There, the horizon becomes the visible boundary of what can be seen – a symbol of the infinitely unreachable, beyond which, somewhere out there, the mystery of a day yet to come is quietly ripening.

Though a purely conditional geographical notion, the horizon remains an eternal aesthetic abstraction – one accessible only through contemplation: of itself, of the veiled mystery beyond, of time that has not yet arrived. Its attainability is as ephemeral as the emotions stirred when our gaze drifts past it – the melancholy over dreams that never came true, or visions of changes perhaps still to come – transforming the sensation of space into a presence of concealed time.

The horizon is perpetual – as is the ephemerality of reflecting upon it.