Kenjiro Okazaki
He woke, took the asphodel against his skin, rose and ran on; the twilight dew, holding the evening star, fell like the tears of the one he loved. Be the dawn mingled with the dusk; every moment is a cradle and a coffin. They come through the cold and the rain to kiss your brow and wipe your eyes. You call her Aziko, but she has every other name; all things are fleeting, and under the blazing sky Aziko broke into a run down the slope., 2026
Acrylic on canvas
182 x 144 cm