QUANDO IL MARE TACE

This is the first breath of a new canvas.

It’s always like this: the beginning feels wrong, timid, almost foreign.

The colors resist, push back, deny each other.

And I’m there, in between, searching for meaning.

But oil paint has its own voice.

It doesn’t shout — it whispers.

And it needs time.

Time to speak, to take shape, to become light.

I don’t know yet where this sea will lead me.

But today, it stirred.

And that’s enough.

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