A woman draped in red collapses against a tomb, her body curved into grief, her gesture stripped of ornament, raw and unguarded. It is an image of loss, of mourning, of the invisible silences that follow when something vital disappears.
War, death, and the erosion of what once felt whole all converge here, not in spectacle, but in the quiet heaviness of a figure who can no longer rise.
Beneath the surface, it is also an allegory: the slow dying of creativity, the fading of authenticity, and the weight we carry when what once gave life its spark begins to disappear.
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