While my friends are planning their retirement, I’ve decided to throw caution to the wind and start over—switching careers and jumping headfirst into the life I’ve always 'secretly' wanted. Because if not now, then when? I’ve wanted to be an artist for as long as I can remember. But where I grew up, art was always considered a hobby, never a serious career. And I wanted to be taken seriously. So, I followed a different dream—the one that led me to a long career as a writer and media professional. But even as I built that life, another dream sat quietly in the background: a sunlit studio overlooking a flowering garden, vast blue skies, and days spent creating art, uninterrupted, and without financial worries. For years, I treated art as an escape, a secret indulgence that existed alongside my ‘real’ career. Then life, as it often does, gave me an ultimatum. When my mother fell ill and I became her caregiver, my world shrank to the four walls of my home—but in unexpected ways, it also expanded. Art, once my refuge, became my constant. And before I knew it, it wasn’t just therapy—it was what I was meant to do. In 2024, I took small, tentative steps and in 2025, I finally took the leap. I became a full-time artist. Will I make it? Who knows. But what I do know is that I’ll love every moment of it. For me, art—like writing—has always been about storytelling. But the beauty of art is that the story isn’t just mine. Each piece takes on a life of its own, waiting for someone else to see something entirely different in it. Do I have a particular style? Not really. My art follows the story, not the other way around. I’ve spent years lost in pen and ink, obsessively drawing lines over and over—both an artistic expression and free therapy. I love black and white, minimalism, and stark contrasts. But I also adore bold, unapologetic colour —sometimes my art explodes with vibrant hues and stylized forms that flirt with stained glass and cubism. So, do I fit into a neat artistic box? Absolutely not. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Maybe one day, I’ll discover and embrace a style of my own. Until then, my art will simply follow my heart. That sunlit studio I once dreamed of still feels like a long way off. For now, my dining table is my studio —but it does overlook my potted flowering plants and the open sky. I create art —not uninterrupted, and definitely not without financial worries. But still, whether I create good or bad art, this life makes me happy. And long after I’m gone, I hope my art will still be out there, sitting quietly in some corner of the world, telling its own stories.