From My Window in

A dark mullion divides the composition: sun-bleached rooftops to one side, a thin seam of Aegean blue to the other.

The eye moves from the dark mullion outward, past a sunlit sill, into whitewashed walls and terracotta roofs stepping down toward distant water. Crisp whites meet soft ochre and deeper blues, the sky softening into haze at the horizon. Brushwork shifts as it travels—thicker, broken touches near the frame and rooftops, then smoother passages where distance dissolves. Light arrives from above and slightly to the side, dropping gentle shadows along the eaves. Edges sharpen at the window, then loosen outward, so the threshold itself anchors everything beyond. The air carries the slow weight of an afternoon that has settled in.