The dried-out branches that have fallen to the ground are telling a story of change and the uncertainty of life through their trace-like, fragmented forms. Some fall and dry out because they had reached the end of their lifespan. Some are broken off and tossed in the wind, scattered in the storm. Some fall, because they must be cast off for the tree to survive the changing seasons. I have recorded the value and meaning of this story in these brushstrokes to remind myself to live my life with care and purpose, and to know the value of the time I have left.