Quintessence (439)

A whirlwind of colors bursts forth like a river in flood, sweeping across the canvas with its many streams. Red unfolds in fiery veins, turquoise opens in limpid bursts, violet spreads in deep layers. Each hue finds its path, as though matter itself were seeking to write a fluid score upon a cosmic parchment.
At the center, a red spray rises like a flame carried by the wind, fragile yet indomitable. It traverses the space, linking dark and light, mineral and aerial. The eye perceives in it a vital energy, a surge that crosses boundaries and refuses stillness. Cells, scattered like constellations of orange and yellow, give the canvas the aspect of a microcosm in expansion, a perpetual germination where each detail carries a story. The whole breathes a joyful intensity—the kind of harmony chance itself can bring as messenger. And if we too were traversed by these invisible rivers, these colored currents that, in silence, always carry us toward a vaster elsewhere?