Everything changes, omnia mutantur, as Ovid said in The Metamorphoses. It is appropriate. Time passes, and you can feel its effects, causing changes. Fall slowly gives way to winter and can be felt in the face and bones. You can smell it in the morning’s cold and see it in the treetops.
The same happens with dreams and hopes. They change, mutate. Agitated and still undefined, wander inside the mind. In their transformation, they have the potential to be anything.
Some of them just break without warning. They wither and disappear in silence… giving rise to other changes.
January 2023, Colored pencils on paper, 11 in x14 in
Beatriz Alonso Carvajales 