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Sophie Hi, I’m Sophie. Eighteen years old, first-year student, and quietly obsessed with painting. I’ve always wanted to catch the things most people walk past — the way light sits on someone’s shoulder, the mood of an empty corridor, the small pause between one moment and the next. I work mostly with watercolours and soft pastels, trying to turn fleeting feelings into something you can look at twice. I like staying behind the work, but every now and then I catch myself wishing I could step into one of my own pictures. University feels nothing like school. The freedom is exciting and a little terrifying at the same time. No one tells you whether to wake up before sunrise for the best light, stay up until three finishing a piece, or simply walk the city with a sketchbook until your legs hurt. Some days I feel almost adult. Other days I still feel like a kid who was gently pushed out the door with the words, “Go on. Try. See what happens.” My favourite time is early morning on campus — soft light, long shadows, people moving slowly with coffee cups in their hands. My bag is always heavy: sketchbook, a tin of watercolours, three good brushes, a small bottle of water, and a notebook full of colour notes and half-written thoughts. I guess I’m one of those people who still believes a single honest painting can say more than pages of words. There are tired days too — deadlines, endless searching for the right shade, eyes that refuse to focus after another late night. But then someone lingers in front of my work at a student show, or a teacher quietly remarks, “You notice the warmth where others only see grey,” and something inside me switches back on. I’m eighteen. I still know almost nothing. But I want to learn everything — how to look longer, feel deeper, make beautiful mistakes, fall in love with people and ordinary moments, and keep my own way of seeing the world. This is only the beginning. And it belongs to me.