Between the untouched and the artificial, we find ourselves. Between the rawness of the natural world, the mess we’ve made of it, and every attempt to make sense of it. To make sense of us, of who are, of who were, of how we got here. It’s in the liminal spaces, in the middle of it all, in the middle of everything that we start to see. In the midst the quiet landscapes looming at the periphery of all the patterns that we’ve created, persistent and indifferent to everything we’ll ever do or be, we start to realize…we’ve never been at the center of anything. A vision of a dream called ‘human’ that the world will one day wake from and never think of again, fading into the middle distance of forgotten memories.