True joy doesn’t shout — it pulses.
It lives in the curve of an unexpected stroke, in the yellow that spills in
without asking, in the harmonious chaos of shapes dancing across the
canvas.
Joy is the architecture of emotion: it has foundations in memory, open
windows to affection, and colors that don’t ask permission to exist.
It’s a state of presence, but also of freedom — freedom to create, to
feel, to reinvent the everyday.
Entire villages are built from this subtle substance.
And some, like Vila Alegre, find their home in art.