

Suspended between two cool blue pillars, a line of clipped, weathered drawings hangs like fragile testimony—memory pegged to a tenuous wire and left to flutter in the murky air of the room. The shadowy child at center, half-swallowed by the wall’s bruised indigos and smeared faces, reaches not toward an object but toward permission: to imagine, to escape, to be seen. Paper airplanes on the red-brown floor become quiet emblems of flight and abandonment, their crisp angles opposing the painting’s fogged, haunted atmosphere as if hope must be folded carefully to survive. Light here is not illumination but revelation-by-stain, exposing an interior world where innocence persists under surveillance and silence.







