Every drawing begins with a framework. I have always loved that early, fragile stage of sketching, when the lines are loose and searching, forming what is called a wireframe . It’s the skeleton of creation, the unseen scaffolding that holds everything together. A wireframe sketch is not about perfection; it’s about understanding. It’s a way of listening to the shape before it speaks. Each line traces the invisible rhythm of movement — a gesture, a tilt of weight, the tension

I have always been fascinated by fossils. There’s something almost sacred about holding a piece of life that once moved, breathed, and existed millions of years ago. It’s as if time folds in on itself — and for a fleeting moment, I am touching both the past and the present. Fossils are storytellers. They carry with them the weight of entire worlds that no longer exist, whispering of ancient oceans, forests, and creatures that once roamed beneath the same sun we see today. Whe

I visited a maritime museum recently — one filled with artifacts: fragments of ships, rusted compasses, delicate glass bottles... Each relic carried the weight of stories that once sailed and then sank into silence. There’s something hauntingly beautiful about shipwrecks — they are reminders of both human ambition and nature’s quiet authority. As I walked among the exhibits, I found myself imagining the hands that built these vessels. Each bolt and plank once part of a dream