disclaimer: with postcards that I have made, I include part my notes from my phone. they`re usually sad.

I really want to cry. No, no, I want to live in a nice, cosy apartment with someone I love ( I hope I’ll love him a lot) and I hope he will love me a lot. And I’ll paint every day and he will sing to me and we will make a lot of good food together. Nothing will be unpleasant and my room will always be warm and the apartment will be flooded of a pleasant scent. warm feet tapping.  Green tones take over my brain and I know, I know I am simply tired but this sleepiness lets my mind flow and travel into a trance of thoughts. Putting dots into this text takes some of my breath away, it is so hard, like a small push on my lungs. Putting all my thoughts on paper makes it look like poetry when it ` s really not and I feel like I sound like that annoying poet from today. I want to read and dance more.



creative space

i wouldn`t call myself an artist. not yet. but i believe my creative process and the works i make are what consume me. every one of my strokes of pen or ink on the back of my notebooks make the person i am.

i am more than grateful to my mother for giving me the opportunity to create in the space of my old house. she has given it in my hands. i made my old room as a small studio, where i am able to create not only for art school but also for myself.

creating photos for products is beyond satisfying as it allows me to express myself while also making myself think in terms of advertising. i grow with every photo i take.