I move through the world with impaired vision. Sometimes, when sunlight strikes my eyes at a certain angle, the veins and surface textures of my eye appear—fleeting, fragile, unsettling. This diptych grows from that moment, from the body’s way of revealing both distance and closeness. It reflects on what is here, what has passed, and what remains. The images hold memory as I know it—shaped by grief, sustained by friendship, and marked by the loss of someone dear, like a ghost that follows and holds my hand in the spaces where I live.