A small bear, the kind that’s probably seen decades of hugs, is sitting inside a weathered plant pot — its fur a little worn, its expression oddly serene. The pot itself has that sort of beauty only time can give: paint flaking in layers of mint green and cream, a quiet record of summers and winters gone by.
It’s the kind of thing you stumble across at a car boot sale or antique market, where objects that have lost their place find a temporary stage again. The bear looks like it’s waiting for someone to notice — not in a sad way, more like it’s quite content with the view.
There’s something unintentionally sculptural about the whole scene: the soft texture of the bear against the cracked plaster, the careful blur of everything beyond it. A still life that was never meant to be arranged, but somehow feels perfectly composed.
#24
~morning
@Hitchin Market
