What shifts inside us when perspective behaves less like geometry and more like a doorway? Where does one reality end and the next begin — at the line, at the light, or in the viewer’s mind? Is the central figure opening their arms to receive something, or to release something? Why does the pool reflect a world that feels calmer than the world above it? Do the toys suggest play, nostalgia, or the surreal possibility that the pool holds a past the present has forgotten? Where is the boundary between structure and nature — or has it dissolved entirely? Why does the scene feel both silent and expectant, as if something is about to begin? And ultimately — is the “bird” a creature, a posture, a state of mind, or the self that remembers how to move beyond form?