If I Didn’t Say It, I’d Still of Felt It

By Bianca Slade

Everything’s moving, but nothing’s lost.

This isn’t chaos—it’s recall. A surge of colour, a fracture of thought, a spiral of memory sharpened by instinct. The centre glows, not to illuminate, but to anchor.

Each mark feels placed mid-sentence.

A pause between things that mattered.

The pressure of holding too much, released without apology.

It’s not asking to be explained.

It’s already been felt.

Said or not.

101 x 101

acrylic on canvas

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