I make things to remember what it felt like, not just what happened.

Most of my work starts as a small noticing: the look between two people, a quiet apology, the weight of a moment that shouldn’t matter but somehow does. Whether it becomes a drawing or a piece of writing depends on how it moves inside me. Some things speak better in color, others in words.

My art sits between realism and memory, where truth blurs a little.

I’m drawn to faces and gestures, to the body as a place where emotion collects. I turn everyday details into fragments of something larger, an archive of what it means to grow up, to love, to feel seen and misunderstood at once.

inkydreamz is my time capsule. It’s where I store the versions of myself that no longer exist — the girl who drew out of loneliness, the one who wrote to name what she couldn’t say. Each piece is a marker of change, a way to look back and see how feeling becomes form.