Drawing becomes a language formed slowly, through years of repetition and touch. Each mark, each scratch of the pen, feels like a word or a breath. Our lives are built on repetition, the daily gestures of care, of making, of surviving. These repetitions become rhythms, shaping both the body and memory. Natasha Preenja often wonders if this language can be read by others, or if it is meant to be felt rather than understood.

Every idea, every thought begins with a drawing. They began as conversations with women, brief encounters in life, moments that often never return. By the time such a meeting could happen again, Preenja will have aged, and she will have moved away from the place where they first met. To honour that exchange, she translates the memory into a drawing, a space, or perhaps a portal, where two souls can meet again.