Nothing is unreal. No illusion that does fully exist, exists as an illusion. A colour is true the moment it is seen as it's seen. A sound is whole the instant it is heard. As it was heard. The world does not withhold itself.

We move through the world the way a beam of light moves through space: everything beyond its edge is not less real, only unreachable. There is a particular longing in this — not for something lost, but for something that was never ours to hold. The beam wants to see what it cannot illuminate. The eye wants to know what it looks like when there is no eye.