To me, the gift London has given me is the space to slowly rediscover, through painting, those parts of myself that were once overlooked and never truly cherished.
Again and again, I see the rough marks left by the brush in my hand, while in my ears I still hear a teacher’s voice from my childhood telling me that these were failed brushstrokes.
I keep brushing the canvas, again and again and again, wanting the marks to become rougher still. And somehow, as I continue, the memory of being told that I had failed begins, little by little, to fade.
