I remember a cold winter during my childhood. I was sick, bored, and stuck in my room for many days. I felt trapped. I stared at the blank wall imagining that it is a huge canvas that waiting for my hands to create. I didn't hold my breath for long. I found my brushes, paints, and started a mural on my bedroom’s wall. Reds, yellows, a spot of purple— squiggly, wiggly, boom.

 

My parents didn’t discover what I was up to until my masterpiece was almost finished. They were impressed and they said that they love it. They showed the artwork to their friends who asked, "Which painter did you hire to create this beauty?". They said that it was me, their little daughter. Some of them didn't believe how accurate, soft, and beautiful the lines and tones were.

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My parents understood that I had an artistic gift, they sent me to study at the art school. After I learned to paint, I launched into studies of multimedia programs.