Scattered plates, empty cups, and the remains of a shared meal float in a dark, textured space—echoes of conversation, ritual, and pause. The overhead perspective invites quiet observation, as though the viewer has arrived just after everyone has left, the warmth of presence still lingering in the arrangement. Each object feels deliberate: the tea steeping with lemon, the half-eaten bread roll, the upturned forks resting on napkins. These small, familiar details capture the aftermath of connection, the beauty in the ordinary. There is no central figure, but presence is everywhere—felt in the used dishes, in the balanced composition, in the absence that speaks of fullness. Symbolically, Sunday Brunch becomes a meditation on time held gently—on the moments between events, where meaning gathers slowly and without urgency. The scene speaks of togetherness, routine, and the quiet poetry of shared spaces. What remains on the table is not just food, but memory—unfinished, imperfect, and fully human..