​​It began with a simple evening walk, the kind where the air feels heavy with memory. The sun was dropping low, spilling light that blinded my eyes and warmed my face. For a moment, I felt as though I had stepped back into childhood — when I sit in bed, , looking out the window and curtains dancing in the breeze, watching the world outside my window soften into dusk. 

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​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​The little neighborhood in the painting below the bridge, with its small homes and winding streets, became something more than a place. Against the hum of cars rushing along the highway, it felt like a bedtime story — a quiet world beneath the noise, wrapped in its own magic.

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When I was painting this it unfolded in front of me. There was a sense of nostalgia woven into the skyline. It was a moment both alive and dreamlike, where past and present exstined at once.

This work carries all of that: the warmth of the sun on my face, the energy of the sky, and the sense that for an instant, childhood and now became one.

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