Skllzrmy's Open Editions: Thresholds of Unbeing

Through unseen seams, the world exhales— portals unfurl, neither here nor there, edges dissolving into forms unnamed.

Illusions ripple like liquid glass, layered veils of what might be and what never was. Truth—if it exists— is a flicker between frames, a color only half-remembered.

To observe is to distort, to reach is to fracture the line. The spaces between things hum quietly, an ache, a whisper, a question unformed.

Coded in React, animated in Remotion Genuary 19 prompt: Op Art (Optical Illusions)