Abstract 3

This fractured cityscape assembles itself from overlapping planes and wiry contours, as if memory is rebuilding a neighborhood from scattered impressions rather than fixed architecture. Warm ochres and sanded yellows hold the scene in a sunlit haze, while sudden reds and cool turquoise interruptions act like emotional punctuation—warnings, celebrations, or remnants of lived intensity. The repeated triangles, shutters, and rooflines create a restless rhythm that collapses foreground and distance, turning streets into stacked thoughts and houses into symbols of collective shelter. What emerges is not a literal place but an inner map of urban belonging, where order and improvisation negotiate the same crowded frame.