Unrushed
12" x 12", Oil on Canvas
He stands before it once more. The familiar form, weathered by time, still carries its quiet presence. He studies it, mind racing with possibilities—adjustments, improvements, ways to make it faster, more efficient. But no amount of logic or will can change what is. A snail will always be a snail. Some things are not meant to be fixed, only understood. Even in its slow, deliberate pace, there is beauty. There is purpose. Not everything must be optimized, some things are simply meant to be.