This painting I created from the roof of the French Church. When I climbed up to the roof, the city opened before me as if it wanted to be painted itself. I stood above Bern, and the roofs of the old town lay below like waves frozen in motion. Their tiles—warm, faded, weathered by centuries—gathered the soft summer light, and I tried to catch it with my brush, careful not to disturb the fragile silence that always hangs over majestic Bern.
