My admiration of vast, overgrown Rococo gardens is quite apparent here. It’s less elegant, perhaps and more savage but just as colorful. The fuzzy, distant pine trees however, were what really delighted my sight the most.

Unlike the crisp, focused objects in the foreground, it’s the turquoise trees, half-blending into the distant background that capture that moodiness of losing something or returning to a memory.

What you don’t see fuels the imagination.