Light Through Prisms

A prism bends the ordinary light, splinters white into its trembling daughters— red, violet, all the hidden colors that were always there, unseen.

This is how we learn ourselves: through something angled, a surface that breaks the beam apart into colors we didn't know we contained.

The spectrum fades into walls. The light finds its way to the next object, the next boundary, and splits again, endlessly.

We are both the light and the prism, both the bending and the seeing, and somewhere in between, something true becomes visible.