A quiet beginning

I’ve been thinking about what freedom really feels like. It’s not always big or loud. Sometimes, it’s just a small breath. A quiet moment when things feel lighter.

when I paint, I notice that feeling appears in colors before it appears in words. Maybe freedom isn’t something we search for; maybe it’s something that quietly finds us when we’re still enough to see it.

Like the leaves drifting to the ground in fall, or the trees slowly changing color, it comes softly, almost unnoticed, yet somehow undeniable.