A woman in a sunlit conservatory leans over a specimen, her fingers brushing delicate petals. The folds of her dress catch the light as she studies the plant with quiet intensity. Around her, glass panes blur the garden beyond, framing this private communion with nature.
A small goldfinch lies lifeless on a table, its bright feathers dulled. A woman in black bends over it, fingers hovering—not touching, just remembering. The air feels heavy with unspoken grief. Something loved is gone, and all that remains is this quiet, aching moment.
A young woman pauses mid-task, her sunlit face turned toward something unseen. The hayfork in her hand suggests labor, but her distant gaze hints at thoughts far beyond the field. The folds of her simple dress catch the light, blending rustic reality with quiet longing.