REBLOOM

Sometimes, everything familiar burns. A scene once full of movement turns to ashes — to skeletal structures, to charred fragments of what only recently felt unshakable.

In the silence, among the debris, movement begins to emerge. From the remnants of the past, metallic flowers grow. They were never meant to appear — and yet, they do. Fragile, precise, cold — yet somehow alive.

They open only in solitude. They dance when no one is watching. Touch is not an act of care, but of intrusion. It breaks the dance. The flowers close.

Rebloom is a chronicle of vulnerability. A study of rhythms that arise after destruction: slow, cautious, resilient. A meditation on restoration — mechanical, natural, human. On movement that becomes possible only within a space of trust. On a new sensitivity that emerges after the fire.