A Dance with Art

There are moments, gentle and fleeting, when the weight of the world feels too heavy to bear. In those times, I find solace in art. The soul-stirring melodies of music, the moving stories on screen, the brushstrokes of a painting — all of them echo truths that reach across time. Sometimes, I drift into the dreamy waters of the Pre-Raphaelites, letting their ethereal landscapes cradle my spirit.

But why this unyielding pull toward art? Some days, I think it’s my inner child tugging at the world, whispering, “Look at this magic I found.” Other days, I feel art is my sanctuary — a balm against anxiety, imperfection, and the questions that are too vast to answer.

Not long ago, a dear friend asked why I insist on a happy finale in my stories, calling it mundane, even trite. But isn’t there something deeply human about longing for closure — about wanting stories to end in a comforting embrace?

A happy finale offers the taste of a world where balance reigns, where love prevails, villains fall, and joy lingers in the heart. Perhaps it’s naive, or perhaps it’s wisdom — but these finales reassure me. They whisper that even in life’s chaos, beauty and order still exist.

When I create a story and guide it toward that warm, heart-filled finale, it feels like wielding a kind of magic. A reminder that even when the real world slips beyond our grasp, there are still stories, canvases, and melodies where we can sketch our hopes and dreams.

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