Boundless horizons: Where We Ran Without Shoes

I painted this from a memory I can’t tell if I lived or only dreamed. The flowers were talking, or maybe laughing, or maybe crying softly—like children. The woman in white, larger than life, was always there in the summers of my mind. Was she my mother? My fear? My love? I don’t know.

But I do know that the sunflowers smiled back at us when we were children and everything in the world still belonged to us. This painting is my attempt to return to that garden—not to live there again, but to remember how it felt.