The word “waltz” belongs equally to music and to dance.
In music, it embodies the gentle rhythm of three beats —
a pulse once echoed through nineteenth-century Vienna.
In dance, it becomes motion:
two bodies drawing circles through time,
their steps weaving invisible lines across the dark.
Even in stillness, movement persists.
These unseen gestures carve traces —
rhythmic, almost melodic — within the frame of a photograph,
as if the echo of sound had remained.
It was, perhaps, a waltz we danced —
you and I, suspended between motion and pause.
In the flow of time and its quiet residues
lies a fleeting, fragile beauty.
To capture it is to reflect the emotions and memories
that dwell within the self as it lives the everyday.
Even in its imperfection,
the form breathes — incomplete, yet alive.