Faded Forest

Step into Faded Forest and the first sensation is not warmth but ruin. Zena Ghossoub paints this canopy in the act of coming apart, red consuming rather than coloring the trees until branch, flame, and falling ash blur into a single collapse. What should stand, trunk, leaf, the quiet architecture of a forest; instead buckles under its own weight, and only a pale road survives the wreckage, cutting toward a horizon-light that never quite resolves into escape. A last fragment of green and blue resists on the right before the eye is dragged back into the crimson ruin, and the title tells the truth of it: faded, because what stood here once is gone, not softened by time but broken by it, leaving only the memory of a forest still burning where it used to be.