Oil on canvas
50 × 40 cm
2026
His feet finally touched the land he had imagined for so long, and his exhausted body found, on solid ground, a fragile sense of safety. He was alive. That should have been enough to give the journey meaning. But though he had left the sea behind, it had not left him. He carried the faces of those who had disappeared, the echo of cries swallowed by the waves, and the memory of a dream already scarred. As for the shore that, from afar, had seemed to mark the journey’s end, it was only the beginning of another unknown. He had arrived, yet something of him had remained out there, between two shores. For reaching the shore does not necessarily mean arriving.