There’s a strange paradox in the age of social media: if no one saw it, did it really happen? We share dinners, sunsets, outfits, and smiles—often less to hold onto the moment itself and more to prove it happened at all. Visibility has become its own kind of evidence. And I don’t say this with judgment—I’ve done it too.

To be honest, I've had enough of the world telling me to take it easy on colors. I'm a rebel and I've had my own series of internal conflicts on color combination but it's essential for me to introduce pops of colors in a rather monotonous home while still maintaining a visual relaxation. The TV was made colored for a reason, don't you think?

“Kintsugi [is] not just a method of repair but also a philosophy. It’s the belief that the breaks, cracks, and repairs become a valuable and esteemed part of the history of an object, rather than something to be hidden. That, in fact, the piece is more beautiful for having been broken.”

On this day and age, emotions or “feelings” can be tacky when it comes to self-expression in art. The masters of the past have probably touched on the best and the worst of humanity in their creations but I believe that this shouldn’t stop us from learning about our consciousness in this world— starting with the person we are most familiar with: our selves.

I took the liberty of composing a narrative provoking the measurements in society, the “fitting” or belonging that we dearly aspire, the set of rules we need to abide and the standard of beauty imposed upon women like myself.