When I step into my studio, it feels as though I have crossed an invisible threshold. The noise of the outside world—social obligations, daily chores, endless responsibilities—fades into a distant hum. This room holds a quiet energy, a different kind of light, where imagination begins to breathe freely. It is the place where my thoughts find form and where colours turn the invisible into something tangible.

Here, the canvas and I become two edges of a single journey. The brush is the bridge between us, carrying my emotions from heart to surface. Once that connection is alive, I am completely absorbed—time disappears, and nothing else exists. The space itself feels sacred, almost like a silent conversation between my soul and the work taking shape.

Sometimes I dream of a life where all worldly duties are lifted, where finances and household tasks no longer press against my mind. True creativity, I believe, longs to be free—yet it also needs the very resources that tie us to reality. This studio reminds me of that delicate balance: it is both a sanctuary and a testament to the endurance that art requires.