A faceted green bull is cradled within a vast, ember-red form, its angular body held like a talisman against an expansive field of shadow. The tension between the bull’s prismatic, stained-glass geometry and the surrounding organic curves suggests a fragile truce between instinct and protection—power rendered quiet, contained, almost lullaby-still. Light seems to rise from within the animal’s planes, turning its weight into a kind of inner radiance, while the red ground reads as both warmth and warning, an intimate shelter that can just as easily become enclosure. In this compressed space, the work becomes a meditation on guardianship: how ferocity is softened by touch, and how tenderness can also be a form of control.