Frozen Stare (2024) Фотография - Lucas Biston Reichling (LBR Photojourney)

It watches in silence. An eye glazed and cold, its surface smooth and untouched. It gives nothing away—no flicker of emotion, no hint of thought. Yet, you can’t shake the feeling that it knows more than it shows. It stands still, but its gaze feels heavy, like it’s holding onto something unsaid.
There is no warmth in its stare, no curiosity, just a quiet patience. It’s as if it’s waiting, not for something to happen but for you to understand. It sees without needing to look, not at the world around it but at something deeper, something you can’t quite reach. It guards its secrets, showing only what it wants you to see. Yet, even with that distance, you can feel its presence, strong and unyielding.
It isn’t just an eye—it’s a question. A question that asks without words, that waits for an answer it already knows. It stands in the space between the past and the future, holding onto memories you’ll never know and dreams that aren’t yours. It doesn’t need to speak, because its silence says enough. It’s a reminder that not everything needs to be understood, and that sometimes, the things that say the least leave the deepest mark. And as you stand there, caught in its frozen stare, you realize that it’s not trying to understand you. It’s asking if you’ll ever understand yourself.