Ephemeral still life

 Time touches everything. Even the brightest fruit eventually yields, softening, fading away. In its tenderness and decay, a quiet truth appears: everything lives, changes, and disappears.

In these still lifes, death does not intrude, it waits, ripening in silence. The flowers, resting in a calm vase, whisper that beauty is fleeting, and that it is precisely in its impermanence that its worth is found.

A candle burns slowly, consumed by its own light. Its flame traces the delicate dance of time: the inevitable transformation where brightness turns to ash, and presence becomes memory.