In a precious studio filled with the scent of paint and damp clay, the afternoon unfolded slowly, as if time had decided not to rush us for once. Sunlight rested on canvases, on jars of brushes, on hands stained with color, and on pottery wheels that kept spinning like small planets in their own orbit. Somewhere in the middle of the room, colors were still being chosen carefully, Letheris's Soobin and Ignarev's Jeno standing in front of a palette as if they were deciding the mood of an entire sky. Not far from them, Courthlace's Yoonseo and Edurne's Hyunjin were still busy with their paintings, adding details little by little, like they were not just painting objects but recording a feeling that could not be explained with words. A little moment of hesitation appeared when Altefiore's Xiyeon shyly showed her painting, even though it was already beautiful in the quiet way that does not ask for attention but stays in people’s minds anyway. Not long after, Eryndor's Haechan presented his painting with quiet confidence, holding it up as if he already knew it deserved to be seen, his certainty adding a brighter contrast to the softness that filled the room.

Across the room, the sound of spinning wheels created a different rhythm. Reiss's Jihoon and Nikolovich's Eric were ready with their clay, following Scythe's Sunwoo instructions, his movements calm and familiar like someone who had done this many times before. Under steady hands, shapeless clay slowly turned into something intentional, something that could be held and kept. Nearby, Romanovna's Lia carefully glazed the ceramics she had made earlier, adding the final layer that would turn something fragile into something lasting. Not far from her, Foster's Giselle arranged the finished ceramics one by one, lining them up neatly until the table looked like a small exhibition of the afternoon we were living in.

And somewhere between paint palettes, spinning clay, quiet laughter, and comfortable silence, the day slowly turned into something we would remember. We came to paint and make pottery, but in the end, it felt like we were doing something else entirely. leaving small parts of ourselves on canvas and clay, turning an ordinary afternoon into something we could keep, not in our hands, but somewhere a little softer and harder to explain.

Late post! Hello, Eduy. It's been a while since my birthday, but hey, it's still March so it counts. Here are some pictures from the day I turned 28. This is just what happened in front of the camera, my family and friends were behind it. 🙈

good night eduy

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The night could scarcely have grown more remarkable within the gathering that brought together Steinwalds’ Ayah and Edurne’s Ayah, as they spent their hours among others of notable distinction. Laughter, flowing conversations, the pop of whiskey bottle caps, the pour of amber liquid, the bright chime of glass and crystal upon contact intertwined, all blending to fill the evening with a liveliness. For a moment—no, for several—it felt as though one had stepped into a world slightly unmoored, suspended between a well-poured glass of wine, familiar faces, and conversations that blurred at the edges.

Yet however deeply they were carried into the atmosphere that filled the whole place, their thoughts would still wander, returning to wonder what their families might be doing in moments when their fathers were not there to watch over them. Well, still grateful for that night and all the great moments it held within.

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