The Dreamer's Pen

There is something about the aurora that feels like a language I almost understand. It moves with a kind of knowing, a silent rhythm written in color, never still, never fully graspable, yet undeniably real. It exists in the space between darkness and light, between earth and sky, between what is seen and what is felt.

When I finished my self portrait, I realized I couldn’t leave the background empty. The night sky is where I have always belonged, but it wasn’t enough to just place myself in the vastness. I needed movement. I needed something alive. So I let the aurora weave through me, around me, within me, like a quiet current of light responding to an unseen force.

The aurora exists because of collision. Solar winds meet the Earth’s magnetic field, and something beautiful is born from the impact. And maybe that is what I see in myself, too. The way I have been shaped by every moment of intensity, every unseen force that has pressed against me. The way I have broken, and in breaking, have glowed.

I think that’s what this portrait is. Not just an image of me, but a reflection of what I am, something shifting, something luminous, something that refuses to disappear into the dark.