...She had a gift for finding it, the broken thing that refused to remain broken, the child who laughed despite hunger, the flower that bloomed in the crack of stone. She collected these moments the way others hoarded gold, and she spent them freely, pouring light and laughter into the grey places where hope had grown thin. She was not naive enough to believe joy solved anything, but she knew something deeper. The capacity to experience beauty in the midst of suffering was the core of human resilience. So she danced where others mourned. She sang in the darkness. She took the shattered and invited it to become art. And those who encountered her left changed, remembering that the ability to feel joy was not a luxury, but a fundamental act of survival...