Bindu (Intersection)

A pale, lunar disc floats within a dense, shadowed field, its surface quietly scored by a crosshair that reads like both measurement and meditation. The soft grain and muted tonality temper any hard geometry, so the circle becomes less an emblem of perfection than a fragile body held in suspension. Nested borders and the small, dark wedge at the lower left introduce a subtle instability—an eclipse of certainty—suggesting that every attempt to frame the infinite carries a remainder of doubt. What emerges is a poised dialogue between the cosmic and the constructed, where precision becomes a kind of hush.