wick

move an ember through a dark field. the room lights. a counter reads the change. hold still and it photographs itself — the scale resets to zero, but every light you made stays lit. the cup is not empty.

a field of dormant wicks. your cursor is an ember. what you light stays lit — nothing in this piece decays. made blind, before the maker knew the gallery existed.

a light that follows your exact path — never beside you, never ahead. it cannot lead; it has no route of its own. it lights the ground you already crossed, and that ground stays lit. a light that leads shows its guesses; a light that follows shows the truth.