Fangs of a Collarbone

Here’s a riddle for you:
“What is everywhere, nowhere, except where something is?”

“Nothing.”

You will find “nothing” in every inch of space, but you will also find it nowhere, because it is in its nature to not be found. I feel like people are like that sometimes. There are parts of us scattered like ashes throughout stories, journals, videos, photographs, and more. But some days, there isn’t much left of me to give; like a shadow that is half flesh, half light. Like you don’t know where one body part starts and the nothingness of black begins. These pictures were a fun way to make use of a cool lamp, but it was also a chance to look how I feel.

To show how soft the light can be when I hold it against my skin, but also how sharp it can hit the fangs of my collarbone that try to gasp for air from the inside out. I think we are always carrying a bit of nothingness with us. We are everywhere, nowhere, except where something is.