Not by someone—but by something.
I wasn’t really thinking when I held out my hand. The light was already there, spilling across the wall. I just… reached into it.
For a second, it felt like the light reached back.
Not warm, not dramatic. Just present.
And then there was color. Not mine, not even really on me—just passing through. But still, it made something feel different. Like I was being reminded of something I forgot I once knew.
I remember noticing the shadow too. It looked sharper than my hand. More real somehow. I don’t know why that stayed with me.
I didn’t take the photo because it looked beautiful.
I took it because something about that moment felt like it mattered—quietly, without asking for attention.
Maybe it’s nothing.
Or maybe some things only show up when you’re not trying to find them.
