Spoiler What is perspective?

  In its most concrete sense—especially in human vision—perspective is the way we perceive the pnes of a shape in space. These pnes can belong to either Euclidean or non-Euclidean forms. By shifting our point of view, we see different sides, angles, and dimensions—revealing the complexity of the object that was once hidden under a single gaze.

  Transting this to a philosophical level, every life carries its own perspective. Each person observes, interprets, and forms opinions based on a unique point of view—shaped by their experiences, beliefs, limitations, and possibilities.

  A cssic metaphor that illustrates this idea well is that of the “frog in the well.”

  Literally, it’s just a frog jumping out of a hole. Nothing more.

  But if we look deeper, the well becomes a symbol: a limit to knowledge, experience, and vision. The frog’s leap represents a break from ignorance and the discovery of a greater world—one that had always existed, just beyond reach.

  This is how we live: constantly learning new perspectives along the way.

  They might not be correct. They might not be comfortable. Some may not even be good. Others, perhaps, are.

  But above all—they are new.

  And new perspectives, in and of themselves, hold the power to transform us.

  [colpse]

  ---

  The shadow observed it all, in that monochromatic gray room, with clothes and scattered, disorganized items. It watched its creator sleeping.

  It knew that, in that moment, it was free to move.

  Without the risk of being seen.

  Not out of fear, but instinct — a habit rooted in its silent existence.

  It slid slowly across the walls, the bed, curling around Lucas’s inert body like a thick, dark liquid — curious and silent.

  There was no sound, only the low hum of an old ceiling fan spinning zily above.

  The shadow had no eyes, yet it saw.

  No ears, yet it heard.

  Its understanding came not from physical senses, but from something beyond — a primal intuition, a perception growing stronger with each moment.

  It approached the nightstand. Felt the rough surface of poorly finished wood.

  There was an empty gss, a key, and a phone with a cracked screen.

  It didn’t know exactly what those objects were.

  But it recognized patterns. Repetition. Function.

  It imitated.

  It slipped to the floor, slithering between discarded shoes, then slowly climbed the wall. It stretched, elongated, trying to be something.

  Trying to understand what it was.

  A flicker fshed through its newly-formed awareness:

  Lucas.

  The name.

  The sound.

  The shape of the body.

  It tried to mimic his shape on the wall. Clumsy, distorted, fragmented... but it was an attempt. A reflection not of light, but of will.

  Something new was emerging within it.

  It wasn’t just curiosity. It was... longing.

  A longing to *exist*.