Flower Born after Sandstorm
2 100 €
“Flower Born after Sandstorm”, 73x92 cm, oil on canvas
The storm didn’t break her, but unlearned her from being who she was.
Sand erased her edges, the wind took her apart into feelings: fear, tenderness, exhaustion, light. Everything scattered, but nothing disappeared. It simply stopped pretending to be whole.
When the silence returned, she didn’t try to piece herself back together.
She allowed herself to grow differently.
From the cracks in her face, colours emerged too alive to still be pain. Hummingbird settled within them, not as salvation, but as a sign: something inside her still moves, still breathes, still reaches toward something bright, even if it has no name.
She remembers the storm, but she holds something almost ungraspable, like that moment when it suddenly feels lighter, and you don’t know why.
She no longer searches for happiness.
She has become the one who creates it.
The storm didn’t break her, but unlearned her from being who she was.
Sand erased her edges, the wind took her apart into feelings: fear, tenderness, exhaustion, light. Everything scattered, but nothing disappeared. It simply stopped pretending to be whole.
When the silence returned, she didn’t try to piece herself back together.
She allowed herself to grow differently.
From the cracks in her face, colours emerged too alive to still be pain. Hummingbird settled within them, not as salvation, but as a sign: something inside her still moves, still breathes, still reaches toward something bright, even if it has no name.
She remembers the storm, but she holds something almost ungraspable, like that moment when it suddenly feels lighter, and you don’t know why.
She no longer searches for happiness.
She has become the one who creates it.
