Descriere
The drawings didn’t hang on the walls. They didn’t sit neatly in frames. They flew.
They floated in breathing circles, like birds with transparent wings. They were alive, but not like people—but like thoughts you’ve never said out loud.
Each drawing was a being.
One was a wound that had learned to sing. Another was a child who had embraced the Universe and couldn’t let it go. Another was a teardrop shaped like a planet, orbiting a heart that no longer judged anything.
I leaned over. A drawing touched my temple. I heard:
“Am I just a shape on paper? Or am I a memory of what you’ve forgotten you are?”
I fell silent. And I understood.
Recenzii
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