A white horse, solitary, emerges from a liquid and silent landscape.
The rain falls, but it seems to merge with tears—those of the water and those of the soul. The horse allows itself to be crossed by this flow, almost listening to a pain that has no voice, yet echoes in every drop, in every nuance.

Tears of Water is born from a moment of vulnerability and deep listening.
The white of the animal is not a symbol of purity, but a fragile surface that absorbs emotions and returns them in their transparency. The rain becomes presence—not hostile, but necessary, cathartic. A subtle embrace between sky and earth, between what falls and what remains.

In this painting, matter becomes fluid, oil transforms into water, and the pictorial gesture tells of the need to pass through sadness in order to rediscover stillness.