"The flower’s beauty is the outcome of its silence," Lispector reminds us.


Silence is the progenitor of form. Following Lispector’s vision, I document the absolute stillness that precedes the spark. The flower’s beauty is the residue of this silence, a fixed point in a world of noise.


 Through my lens, the greenhouse becomes a sanctuary of the "it"—the raw, unadorned existence that requires no translation. I capture the breath between the shadows, where the unreachable roots of home find their most silent, most potent expression.