Echoes in Indigo (Indigo)

This piece came from a place I wasn’t planning to visit. It started as movement, tension, a shape I couldn’t explain—and it became this figure: twisted, closed in on itself, halfway between defense and collapse. I didn’t draw a body so much as I drew a reaction.

The indigo isn’t symbolic. It’s instinctive. I didn’t choose it to say something profound—I used it because it felt like the only color quiet enough to hold everything I didn’t have words for.

Echoes in Indigo isn’t loud. It doesn’t shout. It just sits there, bent in on itself, vibrating with something half-forgotten. A bruise, a pause, a pulse. It’s the shape of a moment I was trying to survive.

I don’t know what it means. I just know it’s honest.