Fragments of a Southern Summer

Some places stay inside the body long after we leave them.

The Mediterranean becomes fragments: burnt sand, deep blue horizons, white fabric moving in the wind, a plastic chair facing the sea.

I wasn’t trying to paint a beach. I was trying to paint the feeling of remembering one.

The figure disappears beneath the hat, becoming anonymous — almost like memory itself. A quiet moment suspended somewhere between rest, solitude and heat.

A small reminiscence of southern summers carried through drawing and colour.