"Here, silence isn’t just the absence of sound — it’s a presence of its own, dense and almost tangible. The three figures crossing the slope look small, nearly swallowed by the vastness, yet that very smallness gives them strength.
In a space so open, every movement becomes intention, every footprint becomes a quiet declaration: we were here, even if the world didn’t hear us.
The landscape is stripped to its essence — white, black, simple shapes — and in that minimalism lies its weight. It’s the kind of silence that doesn’t frighten you, but folds around you, making you feel part of something older, larger, and profoundly still."
