On an autumn evening, when the sky weeps with silver stars

On an autumn evening, when the sky weeps with silver stars, I wander among the shadows of dreams, enveloped in mystery, and art, like a silent priestess, whispers stories to me, about unseen truths, hidden in the silk of time. Each moment is a canvas I paint with desires, and my palette is a rainbow of undefined emotions, coloring my soul with shades of the unknown, while truth dances on the edge of my gaze. Like a dream that cannot be caught but endlessly draws you in, art shows me the search as a path to the self, where each step is a verse carved in the stone of eternity, and each breath is an echo of an untouched world. In the silence of the night, when thoughts float like blue smoke, I let myself be carried by the waves of time, in a sea of questions, and art becomes my compass, guiding me to the unknown, where truth is a distant lighthouse, but always present. Thus, I lose and find myself in a dance of paradox, where each lived moment is a gateway to infinity, and in this endless quest, I discover the essence of life, and art, with open arms, embraces me as a friend.