I danced professionally from the age of nine and began teaching at seventeen. Dance was never just a profession — it was the language through which I understood myself and the world. I built choreographies, costumes, and stories told through the body. I gave everything I had to this art form.
At twenty-three, I underwent surgery on both feet, which led to trauma in both knees. I continued teaching for a time, but every class became painful for reasons beyond the physical — I could no longer demonstrate, no longer lead by example, no longer dance. At twenty-five, I stopped.
The years that followed were years of searching. Art had always been my language, and without it, I didn’t know how to speak.
The turning point came when my son was four months old. Exhausted and lost, I felt an urgent need to express something — anything. I began to write. What started as release became a story, and that story became a fantasy novel. Today I am writing chapter twenty-three.
I discovered that the imagination that once built choreographies and costumes and physical narratives had found a new form — the written word. The talent didn’t disappear. It found a new language.
The protagonist of my novel, Maya, is part of me — the best version of myself I could imagine. As she learns and grows, so do I. This book is not only an artistic work. It is a mirror that returns me to myself.
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