Long Distance Love

Two hands reach toward each other, separated by space but connected by a dashed line that twists and curves between them. This illustration reflects the reality of long-distance love—beautiful, complicated, and shaped by distance that is felt every day.

Long distance brings challenges. The uneven line mirrors missed daily connections, different time zones, and the emotional highs and lows that come with being apart. Some days feel close and effortless; others stretch long and heavy. The connection isn’t straight or simple, but it continues forward.

What keeps the line intact is commitment. Both hands remain extended, choosing each other despite the gap. The dashed line represents effort, patience, and the willingness to adapt. It shows how love can move, bend, and change shape without disappearing.

Long Distance Love is about choosing connection when proximity isn’t possible. It’s a reminder that even across distance, two people who want to make it work can stay linked by trust, intention, and the quiet energy that continues to flow between them.

The Gesture

A towering elephant bends low, not to dominate, but to offer—a simple olive branch to a mouse, who meets the gesture with open eyes. No fear. No superiority. Just a quiet moment where strength chooses gentleness, and the small one receives peace without having to prove its place.

The Gesture speaks to a quiet knowing—that true worth isn’t measured by size, power, or volume, but by the capacity to see another soul clearly, to allow oneself to be seen in return, and to extend the hand—or branch—of friendship. In that exchange, something sacred unfolds.

In a world that often demands loudness and scale, this piece invites us to believe: kindness is strength. And every soul, no matter how small, deserves the branch of peace.

Close, Still

A bird sitting outside of a cage represents a moment after liberation—not the dramatic act of escape, but the stillness and clarity that follows. The bird isn’t flying yet. It’s not in panic or flight. It’s close to what once held it, but now still, choosing presence over fear, and freedom over captivity.

It’s a soul that knows: I am not trapped anymore. I could leave. I may stay. But now, I get to choose. That moment—of quiet, conscious awareness of one's worth—is sacred.

A bird sits just outside the cage, not in flight, not in fear. The door is open, yet there is no rush. This is the moment after the breaking, after the decision, where the soul rests in the truth that it is already free. Close to what once confined, still enough to feel the weight of its own worth. No performance, no escape—just presence. Just peace.

This piece is about the sacred pause—the instant where the soul realizes it doesn't have to prove, escape, or earn anything to be whole. It is already worthy. Already home.

Horizon

In the stillness of dawn, she meets the edge of the world— and remembers her own.

It’s not just a beautiful landscape—it’s a threshold moment. The woman is in between: past and future, grief and healing, ending and becoming. The ocean behind her could symbolize all that she has released or endured. The rising sun and distant mountains ahead represent hope, calling, and the soul’s quiet readiness to move forward—not out of striving, but out of alignment.

She is not running toward the future or away from the past. She is simply choosing it—aware, whole, and finally, at peace with herself. She sits at the edge of everything—past behind her, future unfolding ahead. The ocean carries what she’s released; the rising sun kisses her face with warmth she once believed she had to earn. The wind moves through her hair like a quiet blessing.

In this moment, she does not chase, prove, or run. She just is—held between ocean and mountain, ending and beginning. The soul feels its worth not in arrival, but in presence. Not in answers, but in the still gaze toward the horizon.

Horizon is about that sacred pause—when the soul, no longer afraid of the climb, finally understands that it belongs to itself.

Sunrise/Sunset

The wind moves through her hair like a quiet blessing.

Le Chat aux Lunettes Rouges

Red glasses are a statement. They say, “I’m not afraid to stand out.” And on this cat, they give off serious intellectual-but-playful energy. It’s the kind of vibe that makes you think this cat spends its afternoons reading philosophy books, then casually knocking over your coffee mug just because it can.

This playful cat illustration, “Le Chat aux Lunettes Rouges” (French for “the cat with red glasses”), all started with a birthday gift from my mom—a wooden cat glasses holder that instantly made me smile. It was quirky, unique, and full of personality. That little wooden cat inspired me to pick up my sketchbook and start drawing.

After sketching the idea on paper, I brought it to life digitally on my iPad, adding clean lines, bold red glasses, and a touch of sass. As someone learning French, I gave it a little international flair with a French name—because why not mix art with language learning?