



A jewel-toned bird perches on a scuffed red sphere like a fragile equilibrium, its crisp silhouette suspended against a muted field that reads as both sky and stage. Around it, orange fish glide with dreamlike certainty, their circular drift turning the scene into a quiet cosmology where categories—air and water, weight and buoyancy—collapse into poetic coexistence. The complementary clash of turquoise and vermilion heightens a sense of alert wonder, suggesting a meditation on adaptation: a luminous self holding its ground amid currents that do not belong to it, yet somehow make it whole.







