Drops of Warmth
2022, tempera on paper, 30×40 cm

Sometimes hope is the only thing that keeps us moving. As humans, we cling to dreams — irrational, blurry, tender. We grasp at every elusive reason to stay, to keep moving forward, to affirm the value of all we’ve done. It’s an astonishing trait — essential, and perhaps imprinted deep within us. Maybe it’s our way of surviving. These flower fields come from that space — not real, but remembered. A hazy stimulus. A souvenir of life I carry within me. The colors are soft and dizzy, like warmth seen through tears. And yet, the field feels spiny too — like beauty and pain live in the same breath.