The Shape of Fragile Things

How does it feel?

It’s a question I keep circling back to — not to solve anything, but to notice. To pay attention to the small shifts, the textures of a moment that would otherwise disappear. Lately, I’ve been thinking about time. How fast it’s been moving, how quietly it slips through the cracks of my days. Hours blur into evenings, weeks into months, and suddenly another year has folded itself behind me.

It feels fleeting, almost fragile — like I’m living faster than I can hold onto.

Maybe that’s why fragments matter so much. They slow me down. They hold pieces of a moment in place when everything else insists on moving forward. A page torn from a book, the light that floods a room at the same hour each day, the way music from another time can pull you back instantly. Fragments anchor me. They remind me that not everything vanishes at the same speed.

My work mirrors this. It isn’t about permanence or completion. It’s about presence — about what’s alive in a surface, a texture, a pause. What I once saw as imperfections I’ve begun to recognize as records: proof that something has passed through, left a trace, and changed what was there before.

Fragments don’t lie. They tell you where something was touched, where it shifted, where it resisted. They carry the weight of what happened and the space of what hasn’t yet. If everything before this moment was about beginning, this feels like standing still long enough to sense the current of time moving around me.

Not to stop it — but to notice it. To let myself feel what it means to exist inside a moment that won’t return.

How does it feel to live in a time that moves too quickly to name? How does it feel to carry pieces forward, even when the whole won’t last?

To me, it feels like surrender. Like loosening my grip on permanence and trusting that even fleeting things leave their mark. It feels like remembering that beauty doesn’t come from holding on forever, but from noticing what is here — now—before it changes. It feels like learning to let fragments be enough.

xx