Moonlight

There's something about the ocean at night that undoes you — the way it holds everything and reflects nothing back but light. Moonlight came to me in that quiet. I wanted to paint the feeling of standing at the water's edge after dark, that vast teal stillness stretching out to nowhere, and above it all, the moon — only I made the moon a heart. Because of course I did. White, soft, luminous, hovering in the upper corner like it arrived without asking and decided to stay. The sea barely stirs beneath it. The whole painting breathes in one long exhale. This is what I mean when I say love doesn't always shout — sometimes it just hangs there above the water, steady, throwing its light whether you're looking or not.