To Stechelberg
Through the emerald hush of Lauterbrunnen Valley, Switzerland, my brother rides ahead — a lone figure guided by light, shadow, and memory. We had reached the edge of the world, a place where time slows and the mountains seem to speak. One year later, I returned to this very path to sleep beneath the stars and rise anew in the waters of baptism. This image is a threshold — a still point between past and transformation.
Through the emerald hush of Lauterbrunnen Valley, Switzerland, my brother rides ahead — a lone figure guided by light, shadow, and memory. We had reached the edge of the world, a place where time slows and the mountains seem to speak. One year later, I returned to this very path to sleep beneath the stars and rise anew in the waters of baptism. This image is a threshold — a still point between past and transformation.
Through the emerald hush of Lauterbrunnen Valley, Switzerland, my brother rides ahead — a lone figure guided by light, shadow, and memory. We had reached the edge of the world, a place where time slows and the mountains seem to speak. One year later, I returned to this very path to sleep beneath the stars and rise anew in the waters of baptism. This image is a threshold — a still point between past and transformation.