Inside these strokes live the stories we forget to tell — of mornings we never stopped to see, of skies we didn’t notice, and the softness we’ve been craving
Inside these strokes live the stories we forget to tell — of mornings we never stopped to see, of skies we didn’t notice, and the softness we’ve been craving
"journey through the sky, where clouds become companions"
Billowing forms stretch across the horizon, suggesting movement, mystery, and the promise of unknown places.Whether reflected in puddles, streaking down glass, or painting the sky, the rain becomes a canvas for emotion.