The Promise


Two forms stand facing one another. One still warm, still fragile, still waiting; the other – brighter, fuller, as though a more perfect continuation of the same self.

The person looks at themself and recognises what they see. There is no horror in the face – only a calm assent to what appears familiar.

The person does not yet know that recognition does not necessarily mean identity.

A boundary of light rises between them – not a mirror in which one would reflect, but a threshold through which something passes and never returns to ask whether everything arrived together.

Click to enlarge