CANVAS OF COURAGE [Ongoing]

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    "Every painting tells a story; every story paints a picture."

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SANVI POV

I stood outside the grand entrance of the art exhibition, my heart pounding with excitement and anxiety.  The bustling city was alive with its usual cacophony, but in this moment, it felt like the world had paused.

 My thoughts raced, a whirlwind of emotions I couldn't quite put into words. I felt a pang of anxiety mixed with excitement, like standing on the edge of a precipice, ready to leap into the unknown.  The morning fresh breeze brushed against my skin, causing me to shiver slightly-not just from the cold, but from the mixture of excitement and nervousness.

I have successfully sold numerous pieces of my art, including portraits and exotic works. However, this is my first time participating in an art exhibition. It provides me with the unique opportunity to showcase the canvases of my soul, each one meticulously crafted into a form of art.

Taking a deep breath, I couldn't help but feel a rush of memories flooding back. The countless hours I had spent in my tiny studio, the late nights when sleep eluded me as I immersed myself in my work, and the moments of doubt and triumph—all of it had led to this moment.

I glanced toward the entrance of the art exhibition; this was the door toward my dreams. It served as a tangible reminder of my journey, a symbol of my dedication and passion. I could feel the weight of my dreams pressing down on me, but also lifting me up, giving me the strength to take the next step forward toward my aspirations, my dreams.

"This is it," I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible over the city noise. "This is what I've been working towards."

With a determined breath, I pushed open the glass doors and stepped inside. The cool air of the gallery enveloped me, a stark contrast to the warmth outside. The space was already buzzing with activity, staff members making final adjustments and preparing for the event.

My eyes scanned the room, taking in the sight of my paintings adorning the walls. Each piece was a part of me, a reflection of my journey and my soul. I felt a swell of pride mixed with a touch of vulnerability. Would people see the same beauty and meaning in my work that I did?

I moved through the gallery, my heart beating faster with each step. The memories and emotions tied to each painting played out in my mind like a vivid movie. Each brushstroke, each color choice, each composition was a chapter of my story—a story of loss, grief, resilience, acceptance and love.

                         **

After some time, the exhibition hall as the guests began to arrive. As the exhibition hall began to fill with the gentle hum of conversation and the soft rustle of footsteps, my nerves began to simmer just below the surface. I found myself absently smoothing out the folds of my dress, my eyes darting anxiously through the crowd in search of familiar faces.

And then, like a beacon of warmth and comfort, I saw them – my parents, their faces aglow with pride as they made their way towards me. The sight of them sent a surge of emotions coursing through my veins, a potent mix of excitement and nervousness that left me feeling both elated and terrified.