What happens when the natural object enters the photographic space and loses its function, retaining only its form? When the form itself becomes the subject  not what the thing is, but what it can contain, what it can mean, what it can make one imagine? Nature carries within it the most ancient grammar of form. Organic structures, the geometries of living and dying, patterns of growth that precede any human language. This section gathers work that does not yet have a single answer — and perhaps never will.