The Canvas of Dreams

Rida had always loved colors. Even as a child, she would paint the walls of her room with crayons, draw on scraps of paper, and mix colors in ways that her parents called “messy but interesting.” Art was her escape from the ordinary, a world where rules didn’t matter and imagination could run free. Yet as she grew older, she began to doubt herself. School focused on grades and strict subjects, and her paintings, no matter how heartfelt, were often dismissed as “just a hobby.”

Despite the discouragement, Rida kept a small sketchbook hidden under her bed. Every evening, after finishing homework and chores, she would draw quietly. The small pages were full of people, animals, landscapes, and dreams. Each drawing was a conversation with herself, a way to understand the world and her place in it. It wasn’t about recognition; it was about feeling alive.

One day, the art teacher announced a school exhibition. Students could display their work, and a few pieces would even be shown in a local gallery. Rida felt excitement mixed with fear. She wondered if her work was good enough, if anyone would see what she saw in her drawings. After hours of hesitation, she finally chose her favorite pieces and placed them carefully into a folder, deciding to take the risk.

On the day of the exhibition, the school hall was filled with colorful paintings, sculptures, and installations. Students walked around, comparing their work with others. Rida felt nervous, her heart racing. When it was her turn to display, she hesitated before putting her drawings on the board. Her hands shook slightly, but she reminded herself that she was doing this for herself, not anyone else.

As the visitors moved through the exhibition, something remarkable happened. People stopped in front of Rida’s drawings, looking closely. Some smiled, some whispered to each other, and a few even took pictures. An older artist, who had come to judge the exhibition, approached her. He asked her questions about the inspiration behind each drawing, and when she explained, he nodded with interest. “You have a voice,” he said. “A unique way of seeing the world. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Rida felt something she had never felt before: validation. Not the kind that came from awards or applause, but the kind that comes from being understood. She realized that her art wasn’t meant to compete or fit into someone else’s idea of perfection. It was meant to express, to communicate, and to connect.

Encouraged by this experience, Rida began to explore new forms of art. She painted murals on blank walls in her neighborhood, creating scenes that made people pause and smile. She held small workshops for children, teaching them to mix colors and express themselves without fear. Each brushstroke became a way to share joy, to inspire creativity, and to build community.

Through her journey, Rida learned an important lesson: art is not only about creating beauty, but also about giving meaning to life. Colors, shapes, and lines carry emotions, memories, and dreams. They can heal, inspire, and connect people in ways that words often cannot. Her drawings, once hidden and doubted, had become a bridge between herself and the world.

Years later, Rida became a professional artist, known not for fame or fortune, but for her honesty and imagination. She never forgot the sketchbook under her bed, the small moments of courage that allowed her to show her work, and the teacher who reminded her that her voice mattered. Every piece she created carried a piece of herself, a reminder that art is not about approval—it is about truth, expression, and courage.

Rida finally understood that the most important canvas was not the wall, the paper, or the gallery—it was life itself. And each day she lived, each smile she inspired, and each story she told through her art became a masterpiece in its own right.