A city appears as if remembered rather than observed—its towers and rooftops rising from a dense, earth-toned thicket of marks that feels both architectural and organic. The composition pivots around a volatile seam of cobalt and white, like a river of light cutting through accumulated history, cooling the heat of rust and ochre while pulling the eye into motion. Broad fields of pale, scraped paint open a breathing silence around the clustered forms, suggesting absence, erasure, and the way time edits even the most solid structures. What remains is an urban psyche: part ruin, part renewal, held together by gesture and the stubborn insistence of color.