The Fields of Yaaru (9)

In this painting, light seems to surge from the very depths of the canvas, like a dawn setting the horizon ablaze. Colors blend and unfold into a celestial bouquet: pinks and oranges burst forth within a turquoise setting, as though a secret garden had opened in the sky. The broad movements of the knife create luminous reliefs that evoke the vibration of invisible wings. One seems to glimpse a rediscovered Eden, where nature speaks not through detail, but through the essence of its forms and breaths. Each flicker of paint becomes a petal, each striation a sunbeam, each contrast a promise of awakening. The gaze is carried along through this profusion of colors, until suddenly silence falls. It is the silence of beginnings, of suspended instants where everything is reborn. The canvas becomes a sanctuary, a sacred space where the soul can drink from hope. In contemplating this gentle explosion, one touches the timeless: the primal beauty of a nature that never ceases to recreate itself, tirelessly. Here, life reveals itself in the simplicity of an evidence—it is light, breath, and truth.