The Breath We Cannot Hold

I have been thinking about the things that move through us without ever asking for permission. We spend so much of our lives trying to build walls, trying to anchor ourselves to the earth with heavy things—furniture, habits, names—as if we could stop the inevitable drift. But there is always a current, isn’t there? A persistent, invisible force that pushes against our skin, reminding us that we are not as solid as we pretend to be. It is the same force that carries the scent of rain before it falls and the dust of places we have never visited. We try to name it, to categorize it, to tame it into a weather report, but it remains wild. It is the breath of the world, passing through the gaps in our architecture and the spaces between our fingers. If you stood still long enough, would you finally let it carry you somewhere else, or would you fight to keep your feet on the ground? What is it that you are still holding onto, even when the air is trying to pull it away?

Fidan Nazim Qizi has captured this restless energy in her work titled City of Winds. It feels like a quiet conversation between the stone of the city and the invisible hands of the air. Does it make you want to lean into the breeze, or seek shelter?