❖
A memory surfacing upon an old canvas.
Hands becoming instruments of transmission.
Leaves and flowers turning into brushes.
An imperfect world, yet paradoxically more real than the screens
this era compels us to look at.
Hands becoming instruments of transmission.
Leaves and flowers turning into brushes.
An imperfect world, yet paradoxically more real than the screens
this era compels us to look at.
❖
