The Man And The Dog

A man walks.
A dog follows.

What binds them is not named.
What separates them is not spoken.

They move across open land-dry, quiet, without witness.
There is no map. No instruction. No promise of arrival.

The dog watches.
The man continues.

This is not a story of companionship.
It is a study of distance, of presence without explanation,
and of what remains when language falls away.

Meaning does not arrive.
It thins.

What endures is not resolved.
It is carried.