The gaps are interesting. It’s a break in the outside the traditional form. The gaps are never there in our memory. All we have are the curves from the outline. It’s a basic form everyone understands. This is why the gaps disappear. This time I won’t let it disappear. I’m staring right at it. I’m committing it to memory. I will not forget this gap.
It is illuminated. The light bounces off the walls of the gap like the light in a cave. You could travel through time to visit cavemen if the light flickered. It doesn’t flicker. It is steady. It makes the hollow of the gap glow and almost spotlights something else.
A limb falls in the back to partially obscure something. The light is shining away. Yet the object glistens. It is the shape of a tear drop. Perhaps there is color. It is hard to tell. There is a stripe. It appears to pour down the side of the object in an exaggerated slow spiral. The smooth surface pulls out the smooth parts of the limb like colors next to one another.
It reminds that it is not a different world. This is indeed real. It is something living. It’s something kind enough to let us stay for a while. It welcomes us. It pulls us together. Not the light or the object — the tree.