These little drawings were made years ago, almost spontaneously.

They began with something very simple: my fingers moving across a screen, putting together colours, shapes and small figures without thinking too much about whether they were beautiful, sophisticated, or even technically “good”.

Looking at them now, I can see how childlike they are.

But perhaps that was exactly what I needed.

Behind those simple shapes was a wandering soul trying to find somewhere to rest.

At that time, drawing became one small way of stretching beyond my comfort zone. I was quietly exploring what I could make, but perhaps more importantly, what I could become.

The journey was not really happening on the screen.

It was happening somewhere inside me.

I was travelling inward, sometimes towards places I had avoided for a long time—old wounds, insecurities, fears, limitations, and parts of myself that I had not yet learned how to understand.

Slowly, I began to realise that healing was not always about defeating those parts of myself. Sometimes it meant sitting beside them. Becoming familiar with my limits. Learning not to treat every vulnerability as an enemy.

And from there, taking another small step.

A little more courage.

A little more curiosity.

A little more willingness to learn about self-esteem, spirit, and the person I might still become.

Perhaps that is why I still keep these drawings.

They remind me that creativity does not always arrive as great art.

Sometimes it arrives quietly, through a finger touching a screen, a childish-looking flower, two little figures walking together, or an image created without any plan.

And somehow, those small acts can hold an entire inner journey.

These sketches may belong to another time, but the journey they witnessed still belongs to me.

They remind me that even when my soul was wandering, some part of me was already trying to find the way home.