artist | author
Everything in life seems encapsulated in that artificial bubble we call time. The farolito’s light is fleeting, the winterberry’s red short-lived; facial expressions are in constant flux, a tree’s limbs shifting with the breeze.
“Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.”
– Robert Frost
