11x14” | Acrylic on pre-stretched canvas 
She stood before the painting, caught by its quiet chaos. At first, it seemed angry—thick strokes of black and gray clashing across the surface. But the longer she looked, the more it felt like motion. Not rage. Not noise. Just something trying to move forward.
It reminded her of unspoken thoughts—grief, maybe. Or the weight of things carried too long. The dark shapes weren’t walls, just waves. Not drowning, but enduring.
There were lighter parts too. Small, soft places that felt like breath. Like the pause between pain and healing.
She didn’t understand it completely.
But somehow, it understood her.