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Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
A man stands on the deck of a boat, his gaze lost in the horizon. The motor hums- perhaps, or perhaps it is silent, drifting with the currents of fate. There is no one at the helm, yet the boat moves forward. He has left the past behind. The echoes of misunderstandings, the weight of lost love, the illusions of victimhood- they dissolve in the wake of his departure. He once believed life happened to him. Now he sees: life happens through him. The past no longer steers his course. Survival was his only language, but now, he learns a new one- acceptance. The wind his ally, the unknown his guide. Where does he go? It does not matter. The future is not a place; it is a choice.
80×60 cm. Oil on linen.
A man stands on the deck of a boat, his gaze lost in the horizon. The motor hums- perhaps, or perhaps it is silent, drifting with the currents of fate. There is no one at the helm, yet the boat moves forward. He has left the past behind. The echoes of misunderstandings, the weight of lost love, the illusions of victimhood- they dissolve in the wake of his departure. He once believed life happened to him. Now he sees: life happens through him. The past no longer steers his course. Survival was his only language, but now, he learns a new one- acceptance. The wind his ally, the unknown his guide. Where does he go? It does not matter. The future is not a place; it is a choice.
80×60 cm. Oil on linen.