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Just before we went on this hike through Mount Olympus' glittering, snowy forests, we drove the winding roads through the ever-changing landscapes and discussed the light. A swift English version of what I scribbled in my diary:

'The light is different here. We talk about it while driving: I mention it to you and you ask me to describe it - that difference. I stare out of the window, watch the sun kiss the mountains, and can't find the words. 'Beautiful' I say lamely. You smile and tell me you see it too. 'It's warmer in color?' your voice goes up with the question. 'Softer' I add, thinking of legato in music. 'A bit like pastel or pearlescent, but with more depth' you say. 'Almost like it's glowing' I say while my mind wanders to Renaissance paintings with lusciously fluffy clouds.''

It's so beautifully interesting to me. How we could both perceive this change in color and light, but júst could not find the right words for it. Like many things from this whole adventure. It's so much all at once, familiar but different, and beautifully so. ❤️

Oil on canvas, 40x60 centimeters with handmade wooden (Ayous) floater frame.


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We Searched for Words, but All We Could Was Feel Them

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