Six months of my life live in this drawing.

Every figure, every creature, every line carries a fragment of that time—my thoughts, my questions, my own balancing act.

At the heart of Aespacia, a woman stands on the back of a grasshopper, arms outstretched, holding scales. She is the tipping point—the delicate hinge between justice and injustice. Around her, the world teeters: a raven wrapped like a mummy, a woman tossing her coin—her “two cents”—into the scales, another crowned with the long, wild face of a horse.

This is a piece about yearning—about the ache of wanting so much you can almost taste it. It’s about dreaming with a desperation that keeps you awake at night, wondering if it will ever come.

And then—something shifts. You see that it will not be the gods, the fates, or the mysterious forces that bring it to you. It will be you. Your hands on the wheel, your feet on the path, your voice shaping the air.

Aespacia is about seizing that moment. About grasping life by the horns and carving your own future. About the wild, unstoppable truth that nothing is more powerful than the force you choose to become