A figure made of threads, each thread extending outward and connecting to unseen points beyond the frame. The figure has shape only because the threads are held in tension. In the center of the image, one thread has been cut — not violently, just quietly snipped. Where it releases, that part of the figure softens, loses form, begins to drift into loose filament. The figure is not in pain. It is watching itself become uncertain. Around it, the other threads still hold. But now there is a question: if they all released, would something remain standing, or would there only be fiber and air? The light is tender. The question is not answered. It cannot be answered from inside the weaving.