"Haru" means "spring" in Japanese — a piece born from many emotions gathered slowly over time.

The past year was a difficult season for Asami, both as an artist and as a mother. She often found herself caught between the desire to fully devote herself to her work, and the wish to be fully present for her child — unable, at times, to meet the expectations she held for herself in either role.

At some point, something quietly shifted. She came to understand that everyone has a different capacity, pace, and set of limits — and that trying to match those who seem to thrive endlessly was simply not her path. This realization, rather than feeling like defeat, felt like freedom: permission to do what she could, at her own pace, within the life she has.

Just as flowers bloom again after a long winter, people slowly find their way back toward the light after difficult seasons — grief, uncertainty, heartbreak. That quiet resilience is what "Haru" holds.

To anyone carrying their own pain, or slowly beginning to find hope again: there is no need to rush. At your own pace, gently, you will bloom again.