A place where afternoon light pools on paper. The scent of pencil shavings, tea, and thought. Creation is another form of prayer. Every drawing begins with a breath.
A place where afternoon light pools on paper.
The scent of pencil shavings, tea, and thought.
Creation is another form of prayer.
Every drawing begins with a breath.
What begins in silence ends in colour.
What is held too tightly dissolves.
Here, the hand learns to listen —
and the heart, at last, remembers how to move.
In this room, thought softens into form.
The graphite hums beneath the rhythm of breath.
Light pauses on the curve of a page,
waiting to become meaning in another’s hands.
The studio keeps its own time —
a pulse between stillness and creation.
What is made here is not possessed,
only shared with the light that lingers after.