A man stands at the edge of light, peering into a world fragmented by memory, myth, and surveillance. Behind the glass, shadows gather—figures in motion, frozen mid-thought, mid-prayer, mid-flight. The scene is part confession, part hallucination. Inspired by the restless beauty of Birdsong on Strawberry Hill, this piece speaks in half-remembered hymns and flickers of neon grace. Not a miracle. Not a martyrdom. Just the quiet gravity of one soul watching another fall.