A place, a quiet land. If you go there, you find resonating silence. I imagine being poised for something.
The morning begins. Or perhaps the day ends? Can you tell the sunrise from the sunset at that horizon moment? Or is some context necessary. Do we know the meaning only relative to our own internal clocks? To our awakening or our soon arriving sleep? Or is there some absolute physics of aspects that defines beginnings relative to endings?
A small study of thick paint and bright arbitrary colors seeks to ponder these weighty entropic questions in its small colorful way.