We spend so much of our lives reaching toward other people, toward memories, toward things we believe might make us feel less alone. Yet there is always a distance that cannot be crossed. The figure approaches something that seems almost within reach. The space between them becomes more important than the objects themselves. It is the space of hesitation, desire, fear, and everything that remains unsaid. Perhaps the cruelest form of distance is not being far away, but being close enough to imagine what it would feel like to touch.