A bouquet caught in motion. Rose, periwinkle, sage, teal, dusty mauve — colours pulled diagonally across the canvas as if a window had just been opened in the room. Black contour lines thread through the composition like wind made visible. The whites are mother-of-pearl, not linen, not bandage.

The fourth weather of the collection. Where Le Deuil des Iris mourned, L'Aube des Lys breathed, and Polyphonie sang, this one moves. Stems uncoiling rather than standing. A bouquet that has stopped pretending to be still.

The evening panel of the 2026 collection — abstraction working as wind, gesture working as breath.