Where Feelings Become Forms

Some flowers do not feel earthly to me, especially the lily. I have never felt that it came from soil. It feels more like a memory from somewhere else: quiet, intelligent, observing. What I see is not what exists—it is what is felt. This sensation was born in the space between waking and dreaming, where threshold beings exist— bees with borrowed faces, spiders carrying forgotten memories, guardians disguised as signs. I am not afraid of them. They are fragments of myself that have returned. The flower I hold did not grow from soil; it grew from silence.

digital painting- photoshop