First Ray
There are moments that last exactly as long as it takes for a brush to touch the canvas – not a second longer.
That morning in Šilalė, everything was still asleep. The homestead, surrounded by dew-covered grass, was quiet in the way houses are quiet when someone has just left and will soon return. The roof was still dark from the night.
And then – a single stroke.
Warm, thick, almost insolent in its confidence – as if someone had loaded a brush with light and swept it once across the sky, unafraid of making a mistake.
The cool green earth accepted the warmth without resistance. Light does not come asking permission. It descends, leaves a trace on a wall, in the treetops, in someone's memory – and moves on.
I only just managed to catch it.
I didn't have time to ask where it had come from, or to whom it was carrying its warmth next.
Touch of Light, 2024
Oil on canvas, 12 × 17 cm · framed 29 × 39 cm