Original artwork description:

In the far corner of the garden, where no one has entered for a long time, a bouquet of flowers was forgotten. They were left to die on a white table.
Now their skeletons, desiccated and translucent—ghosts of a former beauty—cast shadows like cracks in memory. And the Watering Can is filled not with water, but with a darkness—heavy as lead.
The beauty that was so tended to proved but a fleeting guest. Beauty proved fragile, while the sorrowful thoughts, so diligently uprooted from memory like weeds, turned out to be the only ones who remained faithful to this place until the very end.
The flowers are no longer watered. No one admires them anymore. They are like joyful thoughts, forgotten deep in the folds of memory. They simply lie beneath the sun, slowly dying, turning to dust without regret.

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