In Corde Coeli (59)

A white eruption splits the canvas in luminous flashes, like a celestial tear cutting through space. Around it, blues and greens spread in shifting layers, recalling ocean and sky intertwined. Purples slip into the background, like clouds of mystery, while at the center a blazing form rises—red and ardent, resembling a figure in prayer. The composition unites the fluid softness of inks with the intensity of a sacred gesture. The gaze follows the radiant line that crosses the work, like a thread of light connecting the visible and invisible worlds. Everything seems suspended, as though the canvas captured the precise moment when the universe breathes and reveals itself. And if this fissure of light were not a fracture, but a birth—the opening of a passage toward an even vaster clarity?