My name is Kaori, I’m 18, and I study art history. For me, it’s more than just an academic pursuit—it’s a way to understand the world on a deeper level. I love deciphering the meanings artists leave in their works, reading between the brushstrokes, finding hidden symbols in architecture, and seeing how art weaves itself into everyday life. Every era tells a story through color, shape, and form, and I find it fascinating to uncover those narratives. But my inspiration isn’t limited to books and museums.

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In my free time, I love walking through the city with my headphones on—but I rarely get to the end of a playlist. The moment I hear street musicians, my headphones disappear into my pocket, and I just listen. In those moments, the city turns into a stage, and random passersby become an unintentional audience. I love how a saxophone blends with the hum of traffic, how a singer in the square pours their heart into a song, even if no one stops to listen, how a violin can make an ordinary evening feel just a little more magical. I live for those spontaneous moments when art emerges right in the middle of an ordinary day. I believe that art isn’t just found in museums and galleries. It’s in the details, in the murals on city walls, in old cobblestone streets, in the cracks of buildings that hold stories of the past. Maybe that’s why I chose to study art history—to sharpen my ability to see this beauty and, perhaps one day, help others see it too.

One day, I want to pack my backpack, buy a ticket, and fly to where the cliffs meet the sea—the Norwegian islands. A place where silence speaks louder than words, where the cold air smells of salt and freedom, and the water seems endless. But I don’t just want to visit. I want to take a kayak, push it into the water, and set off paddling through these northern waves. To move forward, feeling the sea breeze chill my skin and my heart beating in sync with the rhythm of the water. Can you imagine? You’re surrounded by wild nature, rocky shores passing by, a distant whale’s silhouette appearing on the horizon, and the sun that never truly sets. After a long day, I’d find a tiny island, make a cup of hot tea, wrap myself in a blanket, and just sit there, listening to the sea tell its stories. And in that moment, I’d know—yes, this is the dream I’ve been chasing. And it’s worth every mile of the journey.