longing still

there is a peculiar kind of longing that exists without a destination. a quiet state of waiting, suspended somewhere between hope and acceptance, where time seems to move differently. perhaps waiting is not always about expecting someone to arrive, but about learning to exist within the space their absence creates. the hours pass, the world continues, and yet something within us remains still, holding on to a possibility that may never become reality. we often mistake waiting for an empty passage of time, when perhaps it is one of the few moments in which we become most aware of our own existence. and so, we remain: not entirely hopeful, not entirely resigned, but somewhere in between, quietly longing for something we cannot quite name.

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Faintly

Autumn has a way of making everything feel a little further away. The days grow quieter, the light grows thinner, and even sadness becomes something soft enough to live with. Some things leave without ever quite disappearing.

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longing still

there is a peculiar kind of longing that exists without a destination. a quiet state of waiting, suspended somewhere between hope and acceptance, where time seems to move differently. perhaps waiting is not always about expecting someone to arrive, but about learning to exist within the space their absence creates. the hours pass, the world continues, and yet something within us remains still, holding on to a possibility that may never become reality. we often mistake waiting for an empty passage of time, when perhaps it is one of the few moments in which we become most aware of our own existence. and so, we remain: not entirely hopeful, not entirely resigned, but somewhere in between, quietly longing for something we cannot quite name.

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Not One of the Cool Kids

AI

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as we go

**as we go** i often think about the things we leave behind without ever really leaving them. somewhere between staying and going, there is a peculiar kind of loneliness — one that doesn't necessarily ask to be understood. it simply exists. perhaps belonging was never about finding a place, but about finding someone who made being somewhere feel enough. and still, we go. not always because we want to, but because time has its own direction, indifferent to what we wish we could hold on to.

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Faintly

Autumn has a way of making everything feel a little further away. The days grow quieter, the light grows thinner, and even sadness becomes something soft enough to live with. Some things leave without ever quite disappearing.

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hollow

there is a particular kind of emptiness that comes after something has left. not an absence that demands to be filled, but one that quietly becomes part of existence. even what is no longer there can leave a lasting presence.

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Od

there are fires that never reach the surface. they live beneath the skin, somewhere between what is remembered and what cannot be forgotten. they do not ask for warmth, nor do they seek to be extinguished. they burn without movement, without sound, without leaving anything behind that the world might recognize as pain. perhaps that is the cruelest thing about suffering: how quietly it learns to inhabit a body. and how easily the world mistakes silence for peace. in old turkic, od means fire. but not every fire needs a flame to prove its existence. some have been burning for so long that even their ashes have forgotten what it means to be cold.

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unstill

nothing stays where it is for long. even in moments that seem motionless, something is constantly shifting, resisting stillness. a reminder that change does not always announce itself; sometimes, it simply happens.

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unstill

nothing stays where it is for long. even in moments that seem motionless, something is constantly shifting, resisting stillness. a reminder that change does not always announce itself; sometimes, it simply happens.

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Od

there are fires that never reach the surface. they live beneath the skin, somewhere between what is remembered and what cannot be forgotten. they do not ask for warmth, nor do they seek to be extinguished. they burn without movement, without sound, without leaving anything behind that the world might recognize as pain. perhaps that is the cruelest thing about suffering: how quietly it learns to inhabit a body. and how easily the world mistakes silence for peace. in old turkic, od means fire. but not every fire needs a flame to prove its existence. some have been burning for so long that even their ashes have forgotten what it means to be cold.

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urbandances #28

Mint for #objkt4objkt event. Dslr digital photography. photo by: paulisson miura location: cuiabá, mt, brasil year: 2023 socials: x.com/paulissonmiura instagram.com/paulissonmiura farcaster.xyz/paul...

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Faintly

Autumn has a way of making everything feel a little further away. The days grow quieter, the light grows thinner, and even sadness becomes something soft enough to live with. Some things leave without ever quite disappearing.

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Od

there are fires that never reach the surface. they live beneath the skin, somewhere between what is remembered and what cannot be forgotten. they do not ask for warmth, nor do they seek to be extinguished. they burn without movement, without sound, without leaving anything behind that the world might recognize as pain. perhaps that is the cruelest thing about suffering: how quietly it learns to inhabit a body. and how easily the world mistakes silence for peace. in old turkic, od means fire. but not every fire needs a flame to prove its existence. some have been burning for so long that even their ashes have forgotten what it means to be cold.

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out of time

a moment suspended somewhere between what has passed and what is yet to come. the familiar begins to feel distant, as if the world has briefly forgotten its own rhythm. for a second, nothing belongs to the present.

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Faintly

Autumn has a way of making everything feel a little further away. The days grow quieter, the light grows thinner, and even sadness becomes something soft enough to live with. Some things leave without ever quite disappearing.

objkt.com

Faintly

Autumn has a way of making everything feel a little further away. The days grow quieter, the light grows thinner, and even sadness becomes something soft enough to live with. Some things leave without ever quite disappearing.

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pressed nature

a plant, a roof, and the traces of something that was never meant to be part of the image. this photograph was made through a double exposure, allowing two unrelated surfaces to occupy the same space. the marks visible behind the plant are not part of the roof — they are stains from the ironing board in the first photograph, carried into the second image through the exposure. i like the accident of that. something ordinary, almost invisible in its original context, becomes part of another place entirely. the two photographs overlap until their surfaces, traces, and meanings begin to belong to each other.

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as we go

**as we go** i often think about the things we leave behind without ever really leaving them. somewhere between staying and going, there is a peculiar kind of loneliness — one that doesn't necessarily ask to be understood. it simply exists. perhaps belonging was never about finding a place, but about finding someone who made being somewhere feel enough. and still, we go. not always because we want to, but because time has its own direction, indifferent to what we wish we could hold on to.

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unstill

nothing stays where it is for long. even in moments that seem motionless, something is constantly shifting, resisting stillness. a reminder that change does not always announce itself; sometimes, it simply happens.

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nastya spacey's profile on objkt.com

Visual artist , nude art photographer

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as we go

**as we go** i often think about the things we leave behind without ever really leaving them. somewhere between staying and going, there is a peculiar kind of loneliness — one that doesn't necessarily ask to be understood. it simply exists. perhaps belonging was never about finding a place, but about finding someone who made being somewhere feel enough. and still, we go. not always because we want to, but because time has its own direction, indifferent to what we wish we could hold on to.

objkt.com

pressed nature

a plant, a roof, and the traces of something that was never meant to be part of the image. this photograph was made through a double exposure, allowing two unrelated surfaces to occupy the same space. the marks visible behind the plant are not part of the roof — they are stains from the ironing board in the first photograph, carried into the second image through the exposure. i like the accident of that. something ordinary, almost invisible in its original context, becomes part of another place entirely. the two photographs overlap until their surfaces, traces, and meanings begin to belong to each other.

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Lager

Good friends, cold beer, and nowhere else to be. A golden pint of lager celebrating the simple pleasures of life. Crisp, refreshing, and always better shared. Whether it's a sunny afternoon or a long night with friends, there's always a reason to raise a glass. This one's for everyone. Cheers! Artist's note: Hand-painted using Procreate.

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Faintly

Autumn has a way of making everything feel a little further away. The days grow quieter, the light grows thinner, and even sadness becomes something soft enough to live with. Some things leave without ever quite disappearing.

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vanished world

a world dissolving before it can be fully grasped. forms lose their boundaries, familiar landscapes become distant, and reality slips into a state of perpetual motion. what remains is neither presence nor absence, but the fragile impression of something disappearing, a place that exists somewhere between memory and oblivion, belonging to no particular time or space.

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at a distance

"so it only seemed that way to you. i cannot think of anyone but you. nor do i think i ever could. i want to belong to you alone. do not doubt this for a moment.” perhaps love sometimes means remaining at a distance — watching, waiting, and caring from somewhere beyond reach. not everything needs to be close to remain unshakable; if you know the heart you belong to, life becomes more beautiful, unshaken. and still, from wherever distance places us, i remain yours.

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