Walking with sadness, I feel the pulse of life— A quiet ache, tender and eternal. The wind swirls around me, whispering like notes of a distant symphony. Each murmur is a thread of solace, binding my heart to the world’s vastness.
Life gathers my breath, breaking it into fragments of rhythm and thought. I inhale the music of its chaos, exhaling prayers that carry me forward. The sun’s warmth, veiled in smoky clouds, brushes my skin as if to say, “Even shadows hold light. Even sorrow holds strength.”
Sadness—my ever-present companion—soft yet unrelenting, moves through me like an unresolved melody. It cleanses as it consumes, transforming despair into resilience. Each tear is a passage in the orchestration of renewal, a testament to the strength born of profound sorrow.
Death walks beside me, not stealing the stage but standing humbly at the eternal gates of awareness. Its presence is a profound counterpoint to life’s fleeting tune. It speaks not of endings but of perspective—teaching me to paint harmony into impermanence, to find grace in the symphony of sorrow and joy. It reminds me that even the most fleeting moments hold profound beauty and meaning.
And so, I create. The brush becomes an extension of my hand, its bristles whispering softly against the canvas, Unveiling colours that seem to pulse and breathe. With each deliberate stroke, the paint stretches and merges, Layering echoes of shadow and light. I feel the texture beneath my fingertips—a raw, tactile reminder of the stories waiting to unfold. Each hue dances like the notes of a melody, and each line exudes what words cannot reach.
The music clenches my heart, stopping time in its exquisite ache. I meet my calling in that stillness, allowing the melody to guide my hand. The notes weave into colours, spewing onto the canvas as whispers of meaning, echoing what cannot be spoken.
This discipline is my anchor, my devotion—a symphony I replay daily, each motion a quiet reverence for the lessons I’ve learned, the emotions I’ve carried, and the resilience I continue to build. Through it, I reflect; through it, I heal. I honour life’s lessons with every creation: beauty, sorrow, and impermanence.
I am the daughter of roots, storms, whispers, screams, symphonies, and silences. Grateful, unapologetic, and unashamed, I carry the wisdom of my journey, the rhythm of my existence, and the resonance of my truth.
I am grateful for the weave of my journey—this magical and humbling life. It is a testament to myself: an original, whole human being who is true to myself and my art.
Life’s journey,
– Gio