A single candle flame that exists in two states simultaneously—burning bright and already extinguished, the smoke and the light occupying the same space, superimposed. A figure leans over it, their breath held, afraid that speaking or moving will collapse it into one state or the other. Around the flame, a glass chamber that might be a prison or a sanctuary, and inside the glass, words are fogging up the surface from the inside: "does it matter," "am I real," "please don't look too close," "please see me clearly." The figure's shadow falls across the flame but doesn't follow the laws of light—it bends toward the flame protectively, impossibly. The scene suggests that the act of observation might destroy what is being observed, but not observing might mean it never existed at all.