Memory is a strange garden. Some fruit ripens long after the tree is gone.
 
Evelyn Remembers the Orchard is a meditation on longing, temptation, and the fragments of paradise we carry within us. Draped in crimson, Evelyn stands before an apple tree in bloom, caught between past and present, myth and memory.
 
Through digital collage, the scene becomes a threshold, the air heavy with blossoms, the grass bright with impossible green. There is peace here, but also the faint ache of knowing that every garden is both beginning and end.
 
Part of the Tongue of the Serpent collection, this piece reimagines one of its most enigmatic figures in a moment of reflection, serene, sorrowful, and suffused with light.
 
Because sometimes remembering is its own kind of grace.