Fragile bell hanging in still light

Hanging alone in the frame, the wind chime catches the soft air. Its body tilts slightly, the string bending with its own weight. Painted patterns fade along the surface, where light and time have worn the colour thin. Behind it, the lake spreads open, a haze of green and gold dissolving toward the edge of sight.

The photograph holds that small balance between motion and rest. Every line—the thread, the curve of the bell, the horizon behind—seems to wait. The light glances across its edge, tracing a fine border between the real and the reflected. Even the faint rainbow near the water feels less like a detail and more like a quiet thought passing through the image.

The focus softens as you keep looking. The chime stops being an object and turns into rhythm and tone, like a note left hanging in air. It doesn’t ring, yet you sense the sound. The stillness itself begins to move.