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Low Tide, Holding Hands / Acrylic + Canvas / 24×36

This painting tells a quiet story of scale—how small human lives move gently through a vast, indifferent beauty. The beach stretches wide and spare, its muted browns and blues softened by the steady breath of the sea. Above it all, the sky opens endlessly, a pale expanse that dwarfs everything beneath it.

Near the water’s edge, a small group walks together, their figures barely interrupting the shoreline. They are not the subject in the traditional sense; they are punctuation marks in a sentence written by wind, tide, and time. Perhaps it is an ordinary walk—an afternoon ritual, a moment stolen before evening—but the way they cluster suggests care, connection, and shared direction.

Low Tide, Holding Hands is a story about presence rather than drama. It speaks to the days that do not announce themselves as important until years later, when memory returns them with surprising clarity. The land curves gently away, the ocean pulls at the shore, and the people keep walking—not toward anything monumental, but toward one another, carrying the quiet knowledge that this, too, is enough.

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