Atlantean Vertigo (3)

A silent explosion bursts forth, like a geyser of light frozen in time. The canvas unfolds like a fan, opening a passage into the unknown. Each spark becomes a heartbeat, each fragment a breath vibrating across space. Here, water, fire, and air seem to have gathered for an incandescent dance. Matter itself quivers, between intensity and transparency, as if the abysses whispered their secrets and the sunken civilizations let their forgotten song resound. The wave does not crush—it reveals. It spreads its liquid wings to guide the gaze toward a fiery verticality. This vertigo is not a fall, but an ascent. The soul rears up, expands, and within this dazzling burst finds the promise of rebirth. And what if every collapse were, in truth, a doorway opening onto a hidden elevation?