___________
Beneath a fragile skin of ice, a captured cosmos of color sleeps. Frozen plastic, a paradoxical embrace, cradles the fluid heart of a moment suspended. Hues, once vibrant and free, now whisper in muted tones, their dynamism held captive in crystalline stillness. The plastic, no longer a discarded shroud, becomes a lens, distorting and revealing the frozen dance within. Cracks spiderweb across the surface, maps of internal pressures, silent narratives of the moment of transformation. This is not mere ice and plastic; it is time made tangible, a fleeting symphony of light and pigment arrested in a delicate, unbreakable bond. A frozen echo of fluidity, a testament to the ephemeral made momentarily eternal.
___________

You may also like

Back to Top