This diptych emerges from the quiet patterns of moving through the world with impaired vision. Each morning, I walk in rhythm with the Earth's rotation, light bobbing and weaving with a boxer's grace—jagged patterns of sun and shadow at my feet. In and out of brightness, in and out of clarity. My sight is irregular with rays of light and how light falls on my face, thoughts drift to the past, pause in the present, and reach toward a future wrapped in veils of sight, anticipation, and uncertainty. The artwork is not a metaphor for blindness; I'm not blind. It's an act of witness—of seeing as it is how I see, which is shifting, moving in time with the angle of the sun and light in my view. The soft reddish band that cuts through the portrait is a reinterpretation of a very real interruption: an ugly grey bar that crosses my vision every day. In this image, I give that obstruction a different life—a romanticized color and form, not to beautify it, but to reclaim it. To offer it meaning. Image description: Diptych photograph: A Caucasian androgynous person with short brunette hair, depicted from the shoulders up and not clothed, is shown on the right panel, deliberately blurred to represent visual impairment. Across both panels, a horizontal color bar in shades of reddish, blue, and purple stretches from left to right. The bar is interrupted at the center where the two images meet, intersecting the person's face. Emphasizing challenges associated with impaired vision.