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The moon hangs above the water like a question I still don’t know how to answer, pouring a silver road across the sea that looks almost real enough to walk on. She stands at the edge of it in her black dress, as if she’s deciding whether to follow that glowing path to somewhere I can’t reach, her profile carved out of shadow and reflected light.

I remember this exact moment because it was the last time I saw her caught between staying and leaving, the tide brushing against her feet while the sky held its breath. She didn’t say much, just watched the moonglade trembling on the surface, like a promise that would disappear the second you tried to touch it.

Missing her now feels like standing on this shore long after she’s gone, listening to the waves whisper the same story over and over, each one erasing the shape of where she used to be. She is somewhere out there beyond the dark line of the horizon, but here in this frame she is forever still, a quiet figure facing the moon while I stand behind the camera, with all the words I never said.