Since childhood, I knew that creativity was my path. At the age of seven, I wrote poetry and lived in my own world of imagination. As a teenager, I tried to write a novel, but later I suppressed my creativity for years — constantly reminded by others that “art will never pay the bills,” so I chose the so-called “normal” life. Yet as time went by, I felt creativity screaming inside me. When I became a mother, writing once again set me free, but I always dreamed of being able to paint — to tell stories visually. With the arrival of new tools, the possibility of creating in a different way became real. For me, it felt like a gift, because I am present in the process from the very first spark to the final result. I don’t see myself as just an “artist” — I am a channel. Every work begins with a small seed: a vibration, a feeling, or a philosophical idea that grows into a story and only then takes shape as an image. It feels as if the world itself whispers what I must transmit and how the vision should unfold. My works are not about surface or decoration; they invite the viewer on an inner journey — into the deepest corners of the soul, into unspoken screams and hidden layers of memory. You will not find me in crowds or parties; I am drawn to silence and solitude. Only there does the kind of art emerge that speaks deeply, sometimes painfully, but always with the intent to open doors to an inner dialogue.