Drawing
The Crossroads of Becoming
I found it by accident. Tucked between a laundromat and a shuttered bookstore, half-hidden by ivy and time, stood a rusted phone booth. Not the sleek glass kind from movies, but an old metal one—peeling paint, cracked receiver, a dial so stiff it groaned when turned. No one had used it in years. Probably decades.
By KAMRAN AHMAD6 days ago in Art
A Modern African Tarot
The thirteenth card in A Modern African Tarot invites a radical shift—not in motion, but in perception. Where XI JUSTICE confronts truth and accountability, XII HANGED MAN asks us to release control, embrace stillness, and see the world from a new angle. This card reimagines the traditional Hanged Man archetype through African patience, spiritual surrender, and the wisdom of waiting.
By Vongani Bandi6 days ago in Art
Art Isn’t Escape — It’s Translation
People often speak of art as a doorway out—an exit from reality, a refuge from pain, a soft place to land when the world grows loud. They say we read to forget, paint to flee, write to disappear. But the longer I live, the less that idea holds. Art has never taken me away from life. It has taken me deeper into it.
By Jhon smith9 days ago in Art
The Bench by the River
Every evening, I walked past the same old bench by the river. Its wood was weathered, gray with age, the paint long gone, and yet it had a quiet dignity that made me pause, if only for a second. I had always been in a rush—rushing home from school, rushing to finish homework, rushing to keep up with life. But that evening, something about the rain, or maybe just my exhaustion, made me stop.
By Yasir khan14 days ago in Art
How Colors Influence Your Mood and Behavior: The Psychology of Color
The Blue Room Where Everything Changed Maya hadn't cried in three years. Not at her grandmother's funeral. Not when her engagement ended. Not even when she lost the job she'd spent a decade building.
By Ameer Moavia16 days ago in Art
The Day the Silence Learned to Speak
On the edge of a quiet town called Marrowell stood a clock tower that had not spoken in twelve years. People still checked the time by it, of course. The hands moved faithfully, circling the face with stubborn loyalty, but the bell—once the town’s heartbeat—had gone silent after a storm cracked its iron tongue. The mayor promised repairs. The years promised forgetting. And forgetting, as it often does, won.
By Yasir khan17 days ago in Art
