The Following Eureka Moments

There were nights when the hours disappeared. I’d draw five, six, sometimes seven pieces before sleep even crossed my mind. The room went quiet, the compass clicked in rhythm, and something in me opened—wider than tiredness, deeper than focus.

In that flow state, geometry stopped being lines on paper. Portals of light appeared in finished drawings, like windows hidden inside the symmetry. Another piece shimmered like a floating hologram. On one, a circle began spinning visually—vibrating, pulsing—an optical illusion so alive I couldn’t look away.

So I kept drawing. I wasn’t chasing a design; I was following an experience. The more I worked, the more these shapes revealed themselves, as if the page knew something I didn’t. Those late-night hours taught me that true breakthroughs don’t come from trying harder—they arrive when you’re lost in creation, and the work starts showing you the way.