The forest around seems to be holding its breath. Not because it is frozen, but because it is waiting. But not for you, not for an animal, not for the light. It is waiting for itself. It is closed, self-sufficient, like a breath that does not want to be exhaled. The shadows here do not run away from the light. The light does not save. It flows through everything, into the quiet water, into the flesh of the tree, into the roots and further, where there is no language to explain.
You stand and feel how it becomes quiet inside. Not peace, but precisely silence, in which everything that was hidden is intensified. Pulse. Anxiety. A memory that you cannot name. It seems that you have just entered, but the forest already knows you. Not as a guest, but as a part. It has long absorbed you.
This place does not move, because it is beyond time. There is no later. No before. Only now, which does not let go. Does not allow you to be distracted, does not allow you to dissolve, but also does not allow you to return.
And suddenly there comes a feeling as if you yourself have become this place. Not an observer, not an artist, not a body outside. But something from within, the breath between the trees, the damp weight of the earth, the transparent depth under the bark.
And nothing happens. But you are already different.
Oil painting, 2025 Physical original included (20x25 cm)
