The Eye

Another example of the constant brain’s meaning quest in the things the eye sees.

It wasn’t supposed to look back.

This is the underside of a building’s curved overhang, a detail most people would never glance up to see. Shot from the ground in perfect alignment, it becomes something else entirely: an iris of steel and shadow, a lens with no glass, watching the world below.

I titled it The Eye not just for the shape, but for the feeling. The symmetry is strict—deliberate, almost mechanical—yet the reflection in the polished granite softens it, turning precision into something poetic. A full circle emerges where there’s only a half. What’s solid becomes imagined. What’s designed becomes seen.

Architecture in Brussels often leans forward—glass, curve, austerity. But this angle felt quiet. Still. Like it had been waiting to be noticed. No people, no rush. Just structure and the illusion of sight.

Sometimes a building doesn’t need windows to observe. It only needs a moment of alignment.