What you can't see

Today I let a memory knock on my door.

It was a distant, almost faded image: a smell, a color, a fragment of childhood. I followed it without resistance, and from there, a painting was born.

I realized that art can preserve memories and transform them into new forms, as if memory needed a body to be seen.

Every step, small or large, has been a way to get a little closer to that part of me that creates without fear.

I've learned that it's not about achieving a perfect result: what matters is the process, the attention, the willingness to embrace whatever comes.

I would like those who read this space to take away a thought: every day there is a fragment of beauty waiting for us , and often it is hidden right where we don't look.