A tree carries the village
Canopies hold four stories at once, with no horizon line to separate memory from place.
Animals speak in pattern
Each body is filled with dots, dashes, or scales, so the mark becomes the voice.
Flat color keeps faith
Cobra green, saffron, and vermilion sit edge to edge, never pretending to be shadow.
The maker leaves a stitch
No fill is anonymous; every small stroke names the hand that kept the tale awake.