Sunlight glows through thin orange peels, their weight bending a slender branch. The fruit hangs ripe, almost heavy enough to drop. Shadows pool beneath them, sharp against the rough bark. You can almost smell the citrus, feel the sticky juice waiting to burst.
A woman sits alone in tall grass, lost in thought. The breeze stirs her dress as sunlight filters through the trees. Her distant gaze suggests a private moment, suspended between memory and possibility. The scene holds quiet tension—something unspoken lingers in the air around her still figure.
A woman bends over her needlework, fingers moving with quiet precision. Sunlight slants across her lap, catching the folds of fabric. The room holds its breath around her—no sound but the steady pull of thread through cloth. Every stitch anchors her in this solitary, absorbed moment.
A young girl stands in dappled sunlight, fingers brushing the leaves of a laurel branch. Her gaze is distant, caught between childhood and something older. The greens around her hum with quiet life, but her stillness holds the center—unreadable, poised on the edge of a thought she won’t share.
A girl in a yellow jacket stands against a muted background, her gaze direct and unflinching. The bold color of her coat contrasts with the earthy tones around her, drawing attention to her quiet confidence. There’s a story in her steady eyes, but she isn’t telling—not yet.
A lone figure stands knee-deep in rushing water, rod bent under the weight of a catch. The river’s current swirls around worn boots, sunlight glinting off the surface. Every taut line in the scene hums with tension—the fisherman’s quiet struggle against the pull of something unseen beneath.
A weathered schooner rides the swells, its sails taut against the wind. Beside it, a lone dory bobs—empty, waiting. The sea stretches endlessly, neither calm nor stormy, but alive with the tension of men who work its waters. Salt hangs in the air. The horizon offers no land.
Sunlight glints off Santiago de Cuba’s rooftops, casting sharp shadows across the bustling streets below. Palm trees sway against a vivid sky, their fronds brushing the horizon. The city hums with life, its energy trapped between sea and mountains in a single, breathless moment.
A girl pauses on the wooden stile, her dress catching the breeze. The fields stretch beyond her, golden and endless. For a moment, she’s neither here nor there—just balanced between two worlds, one foot still lingering in childhood.