Our flags, crisp in the wind, light like the air, light in the air, burn in the wind, flow like the sun, we are blinded.

A warm fire lights the dark.

An ode to closing lids and sleepy nights.

The last of Frank Gehry’s IAC shots. These play on sunlight and reflection, a glimmer of another world beyond.

Light from the sun comes over the water. Dark and stubborn, the old structure stands against the tide.

A glass arrangement reflects light through a window and mirror. Artificial elegance at its most transparent. A luxury indulgence of shattered illusion.

She seems indifferent that her thoughts are building the future.