Choosing drawing as my medium allows me to capture and embrace all the memories and experiences that have shaped me. Each stroke and line is a reflection of the moments I've lived, the places I've seen, and the emotions I've felt. Drawing became my way of documenting life, not just through images but through personal interpretation, allowing me to relive these moments whenever I revisit them.

This passion is also why I began drawing on wooden trays, a traditional art form of the Thanh Hoa people. The trays themselves hold cultural significance, and by incorporating my art onto them, I feel a deeper connection to my heritage. The whole 10 wooden trays took me more than 4 months of exploration, including ordering the wooden trays using the best wood type for color preservation, learning to blend and mix different shades of colors to make the drawings as lifelike as possible.

I started piano classes when I was just 5 years old. At the time, it was more about fulfilling my parents' wish for their daughter to learn this elegant instrument. I practiced deliberately, following their expectations for me, but I didn't yet see the beauty in it myself. However, the more time I spent with the piano, the more it became something deeper—a passion.

I will never forget the summer when I was 10 years old. That was when I truly stepped into a world outside my comfort zone. I entered numerous piano competitions, an experience both exhilarating and terrifying. Standing in the back of the stage, waiting anxiously for the MC to call my name, I could feel my heart race. The moment I stepped into the spotlight, with all the lights focused on me and the grand piano in front of me, the room seemed to fade into the background. Everything was quiet. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and in that breath, I found my confidence.

It felt like the world vanished—there was no audience, no competition—just me and the piano. I began playing Mozart's Sonata No. 3, a piece I had practiced countless times. But that day, the familiar notes felt different, as if they were flowing through me with more emotion and clarity than ever before. Every note carried a part of me, and for those moments, I felt truly connected to the music, as if nothing else mattered but the sound and my fingers on the keys. That was the moment I knew: the piano wasn't just an instrument—it was my voice.

And up until now, piano has evolved into my escape from reality, a place where I can immerse myself in the intricate notes of classical music and lose track of time. The melodies become a form of expression, something that resonated within me in ways words can't.