Anna den Drijver's Echo's Touch starts with a myth — Echo and Narcissus, longing and unattainability — and turns it into a question: what does it mean to be in contact, with oneself and with another, when images and screens mediate everything?

Her photographs of hands, threads, birds, and elements of nature sit with that question rather than answer it. Touch here is not a boundary but an overlap — body and world, near and far, sharp and blurred. The book's cover responds to the temperature of the hands that hold it. Contact arises, then fades.

Working across analogue and digital, she builds images from images — grids, pixels, blurs. The sequence moves from reaching toward letting go, and finds in that release something still open.