Over ten years ago, my grandfather passed — a love that spanned sixty years. At eighty-two, my Nanima found herself alone for the first time. Though her children welcomed her into their homes, she gently asked for something else — the freedom to choose for herself. “I’ve never chosen the colour of my own sofa.” Those words linger, a quiet declaration of self. At 93, Nanima lives on her own in a condo shaped by her own hand — each object a testament to independence, grace, pride, and presence. This painting holds her story.