No Fixed Point

Nowhere holds.
No Fixed Point wanders without apology—through open roads, sleepwalking horizons, and landscapes that barely speak above a whisper. These aren’t destinations. They’re dissolves. Scenes caught mid-exhale, just before the thought fades.

Everything here is in transit.
A fence line slouches into distance. A roadside blur feels like a memory you didn’t make. The ground shifts, the sky leans, and nothing stays still long enough to call it home.

Motion is the medium.
Not the rush of it—but the hush. The slow drift of being between things. These images don’t document a place; they echo the feeling of passing through it, of belonging nowhere and almost everywhere at once.

There’s comfort in the unmoored.
No conclusions. No arrival. Just a looping quiet—the sense that the story is still unspooling, somewhere just out of frame.

These images hold a different kind of stillness. Less about silence, more about space. Sky and land. Light and distance. Traces of human presence fade into the background, leaving room to breathe, to wonder, to let go of where you’ve been.

This series is about dislocation in the best sense—wandering without needing a map. No Fixed Point reminds us that sometimes meaning isn’t found in arrival, but in the moments where we pause, suspended between here and somewhere else.