

Within a circular, moonlike frame, a pale figure steadies herself atop a fantastical creature as if riding the threshold between lullaby and abyss, the scene held in suspension by a dense black void that swallows certainty. Veils of fine, falling lines—rain, stardust, or time—cut through the cool blue ground, while the warm ochres of the beast and the rider’s fan-shaped garment create a tender, precarious counterweight to the surrounding darkness. The simplified contours and restrained palette evoke a dream-logic narrative: intimacy with the unknown, where companionship becomes both harness and refuge. In this quiet allegory, the act of holding on reads less as control than as trust—an acceptance of drifting through forces larger than oneself.







