In Corde Coeli (76)

A torrent of magenta spreads across the foreground, vibrant like a land in fusion. It contrasts with the luminous turquoises and greens that rise upward, forming ethereal columns resembling cathedrals of light. Gold and yellow embrace the whole, giving the canvas a solar, almost sacred aura. The matter unfolds like an imaginary landscape: one seems to glimpse a valley crossed by a river of violet fire, dominated by crystalline towers bathed in clarity. But very quickly, abstraction takes over, reminding us that this world belongs to no earthly geography—it is vision, breath, vibration. And if these architectures of light were nothing other than the inner reflections of our own souls— invisible temples rising each time we allow beauty to pass through us?