She was born from the ashes, but the fire never left her. The serpent whispers of everything she has survived—the fears, the wounds, the temptations, and the shadows that once tried to consume her. Yet she does not run from them anymore. She wears them like a second skin. Above her, the phoenix rises from the flames, carrying the memory of every version of herself that had to die so she could become who she is now. Her eyes remain blue and quiet, because true strength does not always need to burn loudly. Sometimes, it simply looks back at the darkness and refuses to be afraid. She is not the woman who survived the fire. She is the woman who became the fire. Physical oilpainting on cardboard 🎨 20×30 Cm