On the banks of a river, hands bow gently, depositing yellow chrysanthemums on the moving mirror of the water.

The flowers, fragile but radiant, let themselves be carried away by the current, gliding like dreams over the shimmering surface. Their golden petals float freely, following the meandering stream in a subtle, silent dance.

 

As each ray of sunlight pierces through the treetops, the chrysanthemums light up, transforming themselves into tiny floating suns. Their golden reflections splash against the water, creating bursts of light like stars born from the current. The river becomes a moving canvas, where the ephemeral mingles with the permanent, where every moment is transformed into a living tableau of light and movement.​

 

Carried along by the flow, the flowers sail without knowing where they will go, following the whims of the water, sometimes speeding up, sometimes slowing down. Their blossoms are gradually diluted, slipping behind rocks until they disappear from view.

 

Their journey is a metaphor for life, an uncertain and mysterious journey, where beauty lies as much in the movement as in the passage, as much in the departure as in the uncertain arrival.

 

They move away, leaving behind them the promise of a new beginning, a testimony to a fleeting beauty that is both elusive and eternal.