In recent years, I have been touched by emotions that live side by side, in delicate tension. Becoming a father revealed a love I had never known, radiant yet fragile - a beauty inseparable from the fear of losing it, or falling short.

I often return in thought to childhood, to the luminous wonder of small things, and to the ease with which the world could astonish. Time softens that gaze; innocence fades, beauty slips away. Yet in my children’s eyes, fragments of that wonder return, fleeting and precious, intertwined with the fragility of its passing.

Distance from family, the slow unfolding of years, the quiet witnessing of aging and absence, has made me dwell on life’s transience, its hidden depths, and its sudden revelations. Being close to loved ones facing illness has deepened this awareness - a fragile nearness to loss, an acute sense of powerlessness before the body’s frailty, and yet a reminder of the tenderness that persists even in the face of life’s struggle with death. Such awareness has accompanied me across borders, and perhaps nowhere have I felt it more profoundly than in the years I have spent as an immigrant, inhabiting another world while inhabiting my own vulnerability.

Fragility is no weakness; it mirrors our complexity. Vulnerability walks beside it, opening us to wonder, to risk, to the ties that bind. To acknowledge them is to awaken - to grow, to feel, to embrace.

Impermanence flows through every moment. Every note, every pause, every texture celebrates the fleeting, unrepeatable instant that unfolds in time and vanishes.

This work was born out of that tension - a meditation on fragility and impermanence, and on how embracing them may bring depth and tenderness to the way we exist, to the way we love, to the way we live.

André