Unlike a black hole that consumes all matter and time, a white hole is pure emission — a theoretical source of energy, origin, and release. In this work, the white hole becomes a cosmic womb, not devouring but delivering.

At the center, light is no longer a void, but a memory in bloom — a dandelion-like core diffusing existence outward. A luminous woman rises from this radiant origin, not as a subject, but as light itself in motion — becoming, dispersing, remembering.

This is not an explosion. It is a return.
Not destruction, but emergence.

Here, light is not seen.
It is born.