🎨 Hello, dear artists!
He wasn’t young anymore, but he didn’t mind. The rush to prove himself had quieted. His hair was thinner, his steps slower, but his thoughts—sharper.
He had lived just enough to know what mattered: the right people, the right silences, the right kind of tired at the end of the day.
He still dreamed, but with more patience. He still made mistakes, but forgave himself quicker.
He drank his coffee black now, not to seem tough, but because he’d learned to like the taste.
Middle age hadn’t dulled him. It had carved him into something solid. Something real.
Ready? It’s a moment just for you. Enjoy it! 🖼️🖌️
