Sonder – A quiet corner and the lives passing through

There’s a moment quiet, almost imperceptible when you realise that every passerby has a life as intricate and layered as your own. It’s a humbling thought. A soft unraveling of the illusion that you are the only one carrying complexity, longing, memory, and contradiction.

This piece began in a quiet corner. A place I used to retreat to when I felt disconnected from the world. I’d sit and watch people pass by strangers wrapped in their own rhythms, their own stories. At first, it felt like distance. Like I was on the outside looking in. But slowly, something shifted.

I began to imagine their lives. Not in a voyeuristic way, but in a deeply human one. I started creating narratives who they might love, what they might fear, the small joys they carry in their pockets. And in doing so, I saw the threads that connect us. The themes are all the same once you dare to look beyond the surface: hope, grief, desire, belonging.

This corner, once a symbol of isolation, became a portal. A place where difference no longer felt like separation, but invitation. Each unique face, each unfamiliar gait, became a chance to expand my worldview. To soften my judgments. To remember that being human is a shared experience, even when it looks wildly different from the outside.

This reflection has seeped into my art. I find myself painting not just portraits, but emotional landscapes. Not just flowers, but metaphors for resilience and renewal. I want my work to hold space for complexity for the quiet truths we carry and the loud ones we’re still learning to speak.

So here I am, in my quiet corner, watching the world. Not to escape it, but to understand it. To connect through brushstrokes and blog posts. To remind myself and maybe you that we’re all walking stories. And every passerby is a novel waiting to be read.