Somewhere before becoming

Children carry something that is difficult to put into words. Something light, something open. As if they are not yet fully shaped by the world, but still moving within it — without distance, without a filter.

There is something almost magical in that way of being. Not in an exaggerated sense, but in small moments. In the way they look, the way they move, the way they respond without first thinking. A kind of purity that seems to become more rare as we grow older, as if we slowly lose something that once came naturally.

Maybe that is why children can feel like a mirror. They don’t only reveal themselves, but something of you as well. The way you respond, the way you are present, how much space you give — or don’t give. In their openness, something becomes visible that you might otherwise not notice so easily.

There is also something hopeful in them. Not in a grand or distant sense, but something quieter. A feeling that there is still something unformed, something that can move in any direction. Children carry that within them, without even realising it.

Maybe that is what makes them so special. Not only who they are, but what they are not yet. Everything that is still possible.

Text and photography by Eliza Nijenhuis