Before I ever held a paintbrush, I held books — heavy, symbolic, moral books that shaped the way I think and feel. From Rizal to Homer, from Poe to Milton, I was taught to read deeply, to interpret, to search for meaning. I didn’t know it then, but those lessons would become the quiet architecture of my art.

I’ve always turned small moments into stories. Even now, a fallen flower on a footpath can open a whole world in me — and sometimes, that world becomes a painting. MARAHUYO is one of those moments, born from noticing, remembering, and being quietly enchanted by life.