Threshold II

The same walls can hold everything or nothing, and the difference is never in the walls.

Here the surface is alive from edge to edge, crossed everywhere by a restless white line that keeps to no bound. Set into it are two dark enclosures, cut to the same size and the same shape. One holds its share of that motion exactly, packed to the brim and stopping clean at its own edge, everything within it kept close. The line pours straight through the other and out the far side, held by nothing, as though the frame were never there.

Two vessels of the same make. One brims; the other is merely passed through.

The movement never settles in any space it occupies, yet one part of it stays gathered and close while everything else streams past.