Le Néant, Les Étoiles et L'Amour

I asked myself if I'd sum up life in three things, what would they be? Unconsciously, my brain answered: the Vøid, the Stars and Love.
Each concept is depicted thrice.
Once in tiny black canvas and oil paints,
once in hands and oil paints and pastels
and once as drawings and pens.
The vøid is necessary because without darkness, none could see the stars. Am i void when i feel empty? How is love the best and worst thing in the universe? If the last things we see before we die are the moments that made us who we are, are there as many orange stars as there are blue ones? It's all a question of ambivalence and contrast.