It all began one day when I was forty-five, with a single line drawn on a sheet of A4 paper.

As those lines overlap, curve, and intersect, they weave a path back to the memories deep within me. A road sign, a mailbox, the tiny traces of forest spirits, or my timid black-and-white dog—there is no predetermined plan or purpose.

When the paper fills with a certain density and a sense of harmony quietly emerges, the piece finds its end. Looking back, I find glimpses of my cherished everyday life and a small, gentle prayer for peace resting there.