In the studio
- Victor Bellavista
- 23 feb 2022
- 1 Min. de lectura
To wait
Alone
While the world keeps moving forward
Still
Alone
Waiting
Oftentimes it stops making sense
The piece
The waiting
The work
Even oneself.
And the trees remain without any leaves
Day after day
Like nothing good could sprout from them
While the world keeps moving forward
and forgets them.
Winter seems eternal
and the grey branches seem dead.
But no,
they're not.
They're just waiting