Some things bloom in silence, and some are gathered in the dark — not because they fear the light, but because they hold their own.
These petals, these grapes, these flickers of color—they are remnants of something sacred, something never meant for spectacle.
It is a stillness that tastes like dusk. A weight that feels like reverence.
This painting is a hush, a secret, a room within you where time stands still.