Suspended in a wide, quiet field of muted green, the central organic form reads like a fragment of flesh or weathered stone—its thick, tactile brushwork turning matter into memory. Below, the pooled greens of leaves gather in a darker register, a counterweight that anchors the composition and makes the upper mass feel simultaneously buoyant and disquieting. The spare, almost hesitant linear marks at the side function like afterimages or notation, suggesting that what we see is less a still life than an inventory of sensations—touch, decay, and renewal held in uneasy balance.