My Spring

My Spring is an eruption rather than a beginning. It does not arrive quietly—it spreads, saturates, and awakens. The colours are intense and dense—pink, red, and green—like juices moving beneath the surface, searching for a way out.

The surface is restless, scratched, and built up. There is energy, tension, and impatience in it. Nothing is smoothed over—everything is in process, in growth, in collision. Green appears as a sign of life, but it is not gentle; it is strong, insistent, almost raw.

The red and pink fields carry a sense of body, of blood and breath. This is a spring that is not romantic, but real—full of impulse, chaos, and the urge to move. It is the moment when something inside can no longer remain hidden.

For me, My Spring is an inner blooming—wild, uncomfortable, and inevitable. It is life in its most raw form.