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Ophelia (1870)
A young woman floats among scattered flowers, her gown billowing in the water’s embrace. Pale petals cling to damp fabric as the current carries her—not struggling, but surrendered. The scene holds both beauty and sorrow, like a lullaby sung to someone already gone.
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River Landscape
Sunlight glints off the river’s lazy curve, where poplars lean like gossiping neighbors. A dirt path winds past cottages with smoke curling from chimneys—someone’s just stoked the fire. The water holds the sky’s pale blue, but deeper, slower, as if time itself pooled here between the banks.
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On the Thames (1874)
A woman in a crisp white dress stands by the riverbank, her parasol tilted against the afternoon sun. Behind her, boats bob on the Thames, their sails slack in the hazy light. The city hums faintly across the water—close enough to sense, too distant to disturb her quiet pause.
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Jeanne Fourmanoir sur le lac (1892)
A woman reclines in a rowboat, her dress pooling around her as sunlight dances on the lake’s surface. The water holds her reflection loosely, like a thought about to slip away. Oars rest idle—no hurry, no destination. Just the quiet ripple of time passing.
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The Auvers Valley on the Oise River (1884–1906)
Sunlight dances on the Oise, dappling the water between swaying trees. The valley breathes with loose brushstrokes—greens melt into blues, land blurs into river. A fleeting warmth lingers in the air, as if summer might slip away with the next breeze.
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Le pêcheur à la ligne (1874)
A lone fisherman casts his line into the shimmering river, sunlight dancing on the water’s surface. Loose brushstrokes blur the boundary between man and nature, leaving only the quiet rhythm of waiting. The scene hums with the unspoken tension between stillness and potential movement.
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Sunset Over Water
Golden light bleeds into the water, dissolving the horizon. Clouds swirl like smoke, their edges burning crimson. The sea swallows the sun’s last embers, rippling with molten reflections. For a moment, everything is fire and liquid—then night pulls its curtain across the sky.
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Santa Maria Della Salute, Venice
Gondolas glide past Santa Maria della Salute’s white domes, their reflections trembling in the canal. Sunlight catches the church’s baroque curves, turning stone to gold against Venice’s watery blues. The city breathes here—salt air, lapping waves, centuries of footsteps echoing across marble steps.
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Rest along the Stream. Edge of the Wood (1878)
Dappled light filters through the trees, casting rippling reflections on the stream’s surface. A quiet path winds into the woods, where leaves whisper in the breeze. The water moves lazily, undisturbed—just a fleeting pause in nature’s rhythm.