One day, I painted the sea— not as it is seen, but as it is felt: boundless, formless, soundless.

That day, the sea wasn’t a landscape to me; it was a memory— of all the moments I almost drowned, but didn’t. Of waves crashing inside me, of silences louder than screams.

Abstract means: the sea, not as it is, but as it is felt.

This sea is not a painting; it is a confession— from the depths of someone who has learned to befriend the storms and be alone with her own depth.