Stillness Between the Lines where Snoopy lies still – eyes closed, soul open – resting not just on his roof, but in a dream between dimensions.
Woodstock watches quietly, a sentinel of peace on a golden-hued sky etched with fire, grid, and silence.

Behind them, the world fractures into structure and rhythm, black lines like bars, or maybe music staves waiting to be played.
The warmth of sunset bleeds through the cracks – a memory of freedom, a whisper of simpler joys.

This is not just a nostalgic nod – it’s a meditation in amber and shadow, on childhood, on quiet friendship,
on the spaces we build for rest when the world feels too loud.