A second metamorphosis. Green outlines cradle a swarm of small bright cells — candy spirals, dotted wings, a red rosette — all caught mid-change. Transformation, revisited: the self that keeps becoming, never quite finished, always more itself.
In Basia's words
Two butterflies in one day, because no one leaves the way they entered their cocoon. The first was the red admiral, orange with black edges, and it was hard. I hadn't drawn black edges since the very first originals in this style, and I held myself to the red admiral's real colors. This green one is me coming back to my own listening: which colors would bring me joy, which colors are calling to my own inside butterfly?
