He has no name, no past. Only these shifting curves remain, encircling him, erasing him, endlessly redrawing his form. A suspended presence, frozen in a breath of strangeness. Scrutinizing a reality that escapes the contours of the world. A prisoner of the in-between, he sees without looking, crosses without moving, inhabited by visions that no longer belong to him. Silence rustles around him, a melody of ether and vertigo.