30x30
Acrylic on canvas
It was drizzly evening, in a village that smelled of wet earth and warm bread, the rain covered whatever it pleased.
The cottages didn’t mind. They leaned into the weather, each one holding a small secret, of stories waiting to be told. The road curved on purpose. It had learned long ago that straight lines rush people, and this village preferred lingering  Street lamps glowed tossing halos into the rain, proud to be shining on such a night.
Above it all, the trees stretched their bare branches across the sky, like strong arms stitching the evening together 
And so the rain fell, the lights glowed, and the village rested in that quiet, magical moment where nothing much happens, yet everything feels just right.