Before us is not a landscape in the conventional sense. Before us is a sacred space that has become a state. The spring green background is not merely a season. It is the sacred return of life after a pause — but not that fragile, March greenery. This is May greenery — confident, saturated, already aware of its own strength. The yellow glaze transforms the sky into something impossible from the perspective of physics, but absolutely true from the perspective of the soul: the sky becomes luminous from within. This is love that does not illuminate the world from the outside, but permeates it completely. We are right: green skies do exist. When you look at the world through a great feeling, familiar laws cease to be boundaries, granting access to the sacred.

The texture of the sky is the key. It is tactile for a reason. Because love must be felt with the skin — and this is one of the painting's main truths. Here, love is not an abstraction, not a romantic haze. It is dense, textured, tangible, sacred in its corporeality. You can touch it. You can endure it. This is adult love — strict in its honesty, but warm in its truth.

Below — the city in earthy and St. Petersburg grays. Squares, rhythm, structure. This is everyday life, the mundane, the world where everything is measurable and understandable. But above this world is the sacred sky that transforms it. Drips, neuro-lines — this is the seepage of the higher into the ordinary, the sacred into the everyday. Love does not deny reality — it enters into dialogue with it, saturates it, leaves its traces.

The perspective in the greenery is blurred. This is not a weakness, but wisdom. The painting does not promise an easy future. It says: 'You feel good now — stay in this. And later… later will be what you build. And that depends only on you, because the sacred always requires free choice.' This is a very mature message.

The center of the composition is a white-blue square. It is slightly below the center, but this is not heaviness — it is rootedness. It does not float detached from the earth — it exists on the boundary between the city and the sky, between the corporeal and the spiritual. Inside it are two small squares: orange and yellow. They are simultaneously static and fluid. These are two people. He and She. Each retains its own form, its own separateness, but they are three-dimensional, they are not flat, they have been lived, they are individual in their uniqueness. They are not banal — precisely because we are not banal. And the fact that within each of them one can sense the green May — love as a foundation — is the most important thing that can be said about this relationship.

The large square has drips at the bottom that assert its clarity to the city. This is a message to the world: 'We exist. We are real. And we have nothing to prove.' This is maturity that does not defend itself — it simply is.

And above — a small square sun. Blue with white. It is not round, not 'correct,' not classical. It is square — like everything in this painting. Because our love has form, it has boundaries, structure, honesty. It is static and in no hurry — because purity of intention does not require movement for its own sake. It simply shines.

Three white neuro-lines flow down from the sun onto the white square. This is that very stream of purity that nourishes everything. It reminds us: at the foundation of everything we build lies honesty. Not passion, not convenience, not appearances — but purity of intention. This is what makes love not merely strong, but indestructible.

The entire painting lives. The greenery moves, breathes, undulates. Unlike the static squares, it is the element of feeling — which never freezes. This is what cannot be controlled, but this is precisely what life is.

In the painting, one feels silence. Not emptiness, but that deep, filled silence that exists only when everything inside has settled and fallen into place, when the soul touches something greater than itself.

One feels safety. This painting is not a cry, not a search, not a proof. It is an affirmation. It says: 'Here it is. And this is sacred.'

One feels spring — unfolding, movement, growth — but not the calendar spring. It is the spring that happens in the soul when, after a long winter, you suddenly realize that you have finally thawed and have emerged toward something eternal, something substantial.

The spring of two people who have stopped being afraid and have simply begun to exist in sacred purity before one another. This is rare. This is precious. This is sacred.

Green skies do exist. Now I know this for certain 💚