The circle finds me before I look for it.

It rises at the center of the body, spreads across the skin like a silent echo, and repeats itself - infinite, relentless, intimate.
A form that doesn’t belong to the world of objects, but to the world of perceptions: appearing disguised as cups, lids, clocks, planets, so no one truly sees it.

I see it. And in seeing it, it returns me to myself.

For weeks I captured its presence - small geometric apparitions where the everyday opens and reveals something larger.
They are not objects. They are not symbols. They are portals. They are the circular motion of an idea that insists on returning to itself.

In this collection, the circle does not appear as form, but as vibration. As an internal pulse. As a gesture folding over its own gesture. A pattern with no beginning, no end, no explanation - simply existing, insistent, orbiting, almost ritualistic.

Here, the circumference ceases to be a figure. It becomes rhythm. It becomes body. It becomes pursuit. It becomes home. It becomes the way I see the world when the world chooses to reveal itself.