The Weight of Distance

We build walls to keep the cold out. We carve holes in them to see if the world is still there. Sometimes, the aperture is small, a sliver of grey light that offers no warmth, only the promise of something else. We stand in the interior, in the dust and the stillness, watching the horizon pull away. It is a strange habit, this need to look through a frame at what we cannot touch. The distance is not a measurement of miles. It is the space between what we know and what we are afraid to name. We wait for the light to shift, for the shadow to move across the floor, hoping that if we watch long enough, the boundary will dissolve. But the wall remains. The glass remains. What happens when the view is all that is left of the room?

Laria Saunders has taken this image titled Window to Beyond. She captures the silence of a threshold that leads nowhere and everywhere at once. Does the light pull you in, or does it keep you at a distance?