High above him, a parachutist hangs in the air. An unexpected appearance, hovering somewhere between dream and reality. It is as if the parachutist is slowly descending into this silent world to bear witness to what is yet to come. His presence disrupts nothing; he seems to add something to the silence, a floating thought made briefly visible.
The small birds in the tree gaze far out across the canal. What do they see there? The shimmering water beyond the dike, rippling gently where water and dike meet?
The landscape waits. Not in suspense, but in a state of gentle anticipation. As if pausing briefly until the silence and stillness give way to what follows. A landscape that does not speak, but invites one to listen.
