In the display window of the LCM Marin design studio, light takes shape and becomes a story. A collection of glass lamps, suspended between transparency and reflection, evokes the silent bollards of harbors, discreet guardians of arrivals and departures. They speak of the sea without water, of waves without sound, of journeys only hinted at, like a memory gently resurfacing.

Glass, in its fragile and luminous nature, offers itself to the gaze like a held breath: thin, delicate, almost intangible. Yet, in its form, it recalls the solid strength of bollards, those steadfast anchors that withstand time, salt, the strain of taut ropes, and the weight of waiting. It is within this meeting that poetry is born: in the embrace of opposites, in the tension between what appears and what endures.