


A compact city rises from a furnace-like red ground into a cool, breathless blue, as if the urban body is caught between heat and haze, memory and morning. Blocky facades and rooflines are stitched together by nervous, linear marks that read like scaffolding or cracked maps, insisting on a fragile order within the blur. The misted center becomes a corridor of absence—an unspoken street where light diffuses rather than clarifies—turning the architecture into a psychological landscape of proximity, silence, and latent unrest.







