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ArtistThe same artist now sits in the same quiet place, but something has changed. The glowing flower or dream-creature in her hands is growing — brighter, larger, more alive. It begins to light up the walls, casting shadows on the golden statues nearby. But the crowd doesn’t notice. They continue cheering for the statues, distracted by noise. The artist looks up, but not with sadness — with acceptance. Around her, a few wild animals (a fox, a crow, a butterfly) are drawn to the glow, sitting quietly beside her. Nature sees what people don’t. The atmosphere is soft, glowing — moonlight mixed with gold, faint stars beginning to appear. The brushstrokes now have motion, energy, and quiet confidence. This is the moment where the art begins to speak, even if the world still isn’t listening. .rojithayasaswin.
The tiny light in the artist’s hands grows. It breathes. It spreads softly across the forgotten ground. Her body glows now too — faintly, tenderly — but the crowd still looks the other way.
The golden statues shine louder, but her glow reaches deeper.
Animals gather around her — a fox, a moth, a crow — drawn to what others ignore.
She no longer waits to be seen. She simply creates.