Scattered

Scattered -
The Tree That Held On

Almost white. Almost nothing.

A bare tree fills the frame, its branches so fine against the bleached sky that they read more like drawing than photography – a thousand pencil lines radiating outward from a dense, dark core. The image breathes at its edges, dissolving into pure light.

And yet the tree has not let go entirely. Scattered across the branches, small bursts of pink, magenta and yellow cling on – last fruits or first buds, impossible to say which. They punctuate the intricate grey network like tiny exclamation marks, each one a quiet insistence on colour in a world that has nearly given it up.

This is the most restrained work in the series. No fire, no fracture, no darkness. Just a tree, almost erased by light, still holding something bright.

Between winter and spring, the tree keeps its small secrets.