— …. . / .– — ..- -. -.. / — …. .- — / –. .-.. — .– . -..

In the beginning, there was only darkness, deep, silent, and blue.
Then something cracked. Not broke, but cracked.
The way a seed cracks before it becomes a forest.

Red like courage. Purple like grief. Pink like the first time you chose yourself.

And somewhere below, quiet, small, certain, a single light held on.

Because even when everything bleeds, something small always finds its glow.

“The most beautiful things are born from the cracks.”

Object number

029.04.04