Girl & Rose

She stands in the garden of what she will become. A young girl in a white dress, small and still, gazes toward a rose so impossibly large it bends the logic of the world around her. The flower blooms in shades of violet and mauve, petals soft as prophecy, a living monument to beauty she has not yet grown into but already recognizes. She does not reach for it. She simply witnesses. The background is a fever of texture and memory—pinks that bleed into ochre, greens that dissolve into rust, layers of painted history stacked like sediment. Ornate baroque shapes curl through the composition: a gilded chair, decorative flourishes, the architecture of inheritance. A pale moon hovers in the upper corner, watching over this quiet transaction between smallness and enormity, between now and the future blooming just beyond her fingertips. This is an allegory of becoming. The rose is not a flower—it is her, years from now, unfolded and radiant. She does not yet know this. But the painting does. 10 × 10 inches. Mixed media on canvas.