Those two words together turn a visual into a story with a before and after built in. Something moved through this space, something was here and isn't anymore, and what's left is the proof. That's the kind of restraint I keep trying to bring to my own work and mostly fail at, the decision to let the evidence speak instead of explaining it to death.

Tracks hold a moment better than almost anything else. I carved a form last winter that was supposed to be about stillness, but every groove I cut became about movement instead, about what passes through and leaves its mark. That same tension lives in a title like this.