Impermanence
Is it a painting? No, it is a photograph. A photographic painting. And just as when painting a canvas, layers can be superimposed, in small touches. Cherry blossoms, sharp and luminous. Blurred brown-orange leaves dissolving into areas of shadow that create reflections.
Like a dream of nature, the flowers of spring blend with the leaves of autumn in the vibrating light of summer. The cycle of time has flown apart.
Faithfulness to reality no longer matters. In the living world, several times exist at once. In his memory, the old man is a superposition of the child. Nothing ever truly erases what has been. What falls nourishes what is to come. What has blossomed leaves a trace. Time does not pass. It is always present.

Impermanence
It looks like a painting. There is a layer of flowers, bright and luminous like spring. And then a layer of darker leaves, brown, like autumn.
Everything is mixed together. The seasons cross. Spring, summer and autumn are all there at the same time. Sometimes it is sharp. Sometimes it is a little blurry. It is a bit like memories. When you think back to something, everything doesn’t come back in order. Moments overlap.
So you slowly understand that time does not pass like a clock. When you remember moments from before, you create an image that exists now.