I draw everywhere - on café napkins, in notebooks during boring lectures, on wet sand by the shore. 🩷🌸 My hands are always stained with paint or ink, and there's inevitably a pack of pastels buried in my bag. Sometimes strangers pause when they see me painting in the park - some smile, some criticize. But all that matters is how the paper drinks in the colors, how lines weave themselves into stories.

People sometimes tell me: "You need to choose one thing!" But since when is creativity just one thing? For me, it's a way of living - breathing deeply, collecting moments like precious stones, and transforming them into something new. Maybe tomorrow brings another drawing, a poem, or a trip to the sea. The important thing is that it will be my path, in colors and waves. ✨🫶

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I've never been able to think inside the box. My mind constantly births images - they come to me when I see sunlight dancing in raindrops on windowpanes, when I hear the ocean's whisper in a seashell pressed to my ear, when I feel the city's pulse beneath my feet. 📖🖇️

I write too. Short sketches about people I see on the subway. Poems that arrive suddenly like lightning flashes - I have to capture them immediately or they'll vanish. My phone holds hundreds of voice notes: fragments of thoughts, melodies, overheard café conversations. And on weekends - surfing. My dance with the ocean. I'm still wobbly on the board, but I crave that moment when the wave lifts me up and the world falls away. For those seconds, I become part of something vast and beautiful.