The light arrived, but the child never followed it. As if it already knew what waited beyond the flower: loss, grief, and the slow decay that accompanies every living thing. So it remained where existence had not yet begun, embraced by a bloom that could not decide whether it was a womb or a prison.

The summit is not always where light, freedom, and answers reside.
Sometimes we spend years climbing toward a vision of success, truth, or happiness, convinced that reaching the top will finally complete us. Yet some of the things we believe are essential for our lives can quietly become our cages, while the things we once feared or rejected may hold the very freedom we seek.
This artwork captures a moment of descent—not as a symbol of failure, but as a confrontation with uncertainty. The figure is falling, yet her eyes remain open. She is not fleeing, nor is she surrendering. She is witnessing.
There is no clear ground beneath her and no visible destination ahead. She exists in a space between two versions of herself: the person shaped by old beliefs and expectations, and the person she has not yet become.
What makes this moment meaningful is that we cannot tell whether she is falling or floating.
From one perspective, she is losing everything she worked to reach. From another, she is finally breaking free from an illusion. The same event can be seen as collapse from the outside and liberation from within.
The untied laces, the drifting hair, and the loss of direction suggest a life no longer held together by certainty. The answers that once felt absolute have begun to unravel. Yet within that unraveling lies the possibility of seeing things as they truly are.
Perhaps growth is not always found at the peak. Perhaps some truths can only be discovered while descending.
Sometimes we have to fall to find ourselves.
Sometimes we must lose our old answers before we can discover new ones.
And sometimes the path downward is not a step away from the light, but the first step toward it.