Bent But Not Broken

There was once an old guitar I promised myself I’d learn to play. It wasn't mine, though. It was a relative's. It sat in the corner—patient, silent, waiting. I used to imagine my fingers tracing its strings, creating songs to fill the quiet moments of life. But the days slipped by, then years. Time took the dream with it. I assume that this guitar is now aged, dusty, and still untouched or worse, broken.

In my mind, up to now, I imagined playing it, but in real life, I painted it. 

I surrounded it with vines and leaves, letting nature reclaim it—soft stems winding gently around its frame, as if life itself was trying to comfort it. I placed a clock in the middle, a symbol of how time may change us, but never erase who we were or what we once loved.

This piece became more than a painting. It became a reflection of me—of dreams that shifted, of passions that found new voices. “Bent But Not Broken” speaks about resilience, about finding beauty in imperfection, and about how even unfulfilled dreams can grow into something meaningful.

I can see it best displayed in a place where inspiration lives:
 in a living room, where warmth and stories gather,
 in a studio, where creativity takes root,
 in a cozy café, where people slow down and reflect

OR in a music room, as a quiet reminder that not all songs are meant to be played—some are meant to be painted.