Sussurri dal Profondo Whispers from the Depths · Original

White in the dark. From the left edge, pale strands reach into the picture, finely branched, as if drifting in a current.

Around them the blue sinks: above, a shimmer of light, then petrol, then a violet that passes into black. Every strand tapers to a point, as if the hand had paused for the length of a breath.

A picture from the early years, quiet and pared back. What drifts here remains open – hair, plant, a thought. Il silenzio ha una voce – silence has a voice.

In the bedroom, opposite the bed, it is the last thing you see before the light goes out.