In the magnetic silence of the night, a flight of red birds crosses the threshold of a woman's dream. Their restless silhouettes whisper stories of desire and resistance, of what burns and throbs within the shadows. Before the abyss, a blossomed heart pushes through: A witness to fragility and beauty, its light rises in the midst of the night, claiming space for a new promise.

Night steps away from time and becomes a three-dimensional space with its own borders, temperature, and humidity. 
In the darkness, colors emerge from an unweathering place that calls for light.  
In this personal exploration, common symbols have surfaced, taking form as creatures, textures, and colors. Never before did a night seem so full of life. The red birds symbolize the natural force of life,  harbingers of disembodied passion. The taciturn women, with their languid faces and melancholic eyes, search, unafraid,  for a path through the night.  
The use of vibrant colors against a dark background suggests hope and the possibility of a miracle.  
Suppose this awakening in the night has taught me anything. In that case, it is that deep in the soul there is always the desire—not to overcome the darkness, but to travel through it until it is exhausted, aware of the cyclical nature of human becoming. The invitation is clear; there are no easy steps in this path, the only way is through.