You won’t see my face here. But you’ll feel me. In the silence between the words. In the dirt-lined edges of every image.
In the symbols that clawed their way out of dreams and asked to be remembered. Elyoshi was born when everything else fell away.
Once, I was a woman running a digital empire. Fast. Fierce. On fire.But beneath the surface,
I was overstimulated, unraveling.My autistic nervous system whispered , but I didn’t listen—until it collapsed.
Burn-out | DEPRESSION
Then betrayal—my company stolen from within. I lost my business.
My home. My voice.
I had to sell everything I owned,
ended up living in the woods.
But from the wreckage, something ancient stirred.
A remembering.
Of the child I used to be—
who spoke to flowers, who trusted numbers,
who dreamed in archetypes and wrote stories to survive.
I followed her footsteps back to the Earth.
And there, barefoot in the woods, Elyoshi was born.
Not as a person, but as a pulse.
A faceless artist made of poetry, nature photography, and soul-coded symbols and natural patterns.