In this world, there are two birds — like two symbols of the human soul's aspirations.
One is crowned with a wreath of roses: she is a child of carelessness, poetic blindness, and deceptive beauty. Her wreath is alive, yet doomed to wither. She is the symbol of time spent in dreams and oblivion — in the useless, yet beautiful.
The other wears a crown of horns and snakes: she is the guardian of instinct, primal power, and carnal knowledge. The woman with the serpent crown - Eve after exile, no longer seduced, but resting upon seduction itself. She embodies those who have mastered temptation and become its bearer. And between them — a strawberry. A sweet fruit from which the blood of time flows. Its juice is like honeyed pleasure, but it drips to the earth, vanishing. The berries fall silently, meaninglessly. Here each fruit is a symbol of a pleasure not yet tasted, but already lost.
"We lose time as inevitably as we breathe. But in every useless moment, a truth may be born."
