Fate of Calm Hands

An artist, whose entire emotions, feelings, untold truths, and words screamed beneath the surface. The life they brought out through fine strokes and unimaginable pictures. The fate of one such artist, whose hands were meant to be calm, composed, and skilled, met an unforgettable end.

The calm hands that were meant to breathe life into every stroke, even in black and white, chose a long road from which they could never turn back. Hands that were meant to hold something as light as a pencil felt the weight of an entire soul screaming at them for even choosing it.

Those hands that were once calm, as they blended both the sea and the sky on a stormy day, shook heavily as they tried to capture the very same scene again.

The fate of an artist, whose obsession with turning emotions into unimaginable art, chose to avoid it as though it were cursed—the kind of curse that can never be broken, the kind that lingers forever and reminds her every single time.

skia.notes