No grand design, no master plan to unveil, only textures to weave and dreams to
inhale. With the stroke of my brush, the first whisper of blue appeared. Armed with
knives, I carved and swirled, creating an orchestra of motion unfurled. The colors
now roared and the forest appeared.
And then, like a secret whispered from afar, the moon emerged, a celestial star. With
a tender touch, I painted it in place.
And in that moment, I knew it was true; the painting was not just mine, but a piece of
me too.