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A column of sky-blue smoke cuts vertically through the canvas, articulating two dimensions that coexist without ever touching. On one side lies the intimate memory of waiting; on the other, the phantasmagoric presence of departure. The surface is submerged in a nocturnal gloom where light does not originate from outside, but rather emanates from the figures themselves and from the dotted gleams that delineate each form.

On the left, two women emerge draped in monumental headdresses. The lower one, with an innocent and astonished gaze, anchors the visual weight through a crown of reddish and orange filigree that cascades toward pieces of luggage; the upper figure gazes into the void with distant composure, crowned by a constellation of minuscule pale-blue dots. Their faces, rendered in soft flesh tones and refined features, contrast sharply with the graphic treatment of their garments, which are built from a meticulous lacework of luminous specks that seem to phosphoresce against the dark ground.

To the right, the platform dissolves into a mechanical and animal reverie. A greenish locomotive advances on vaporous wheels, preceded by a feline creature in glowing yellow that seems to guard the tracks. The scale of the elements defies all realistic perspective: tiny riders and minute birds share the space with the substantial mass of the train, while the warm glow of a lamp or open book at the bottom feeds the dense cerulean vapor.

The oil paint operates here through extreme thermal contrasts. The cool areas of fractured ultramarine pigment isolate the figures within their reverie, while golden and copper accents concentrate the warmth of the event. Rather than depicting a specific railway station, the space operates as a threshold where time is arrested: a psychic realm inhabited by the melancholy of departure and the lingering spell of that which never truly leaves.