I call this painting “Spring’s Scent”, where spring appears not through form, but through sensation. Pink speckles burst open like memories, falling so densely that one can no longer tell where flowers end and where the breath of time begins. Beneath that spring canopy, the tree trunks fade away, much like a person standing before a moment too gentle to grasp: left only in silence, allowing the scent of spring to slowly seep into the soul.