Lately, I’ve found myself drawn to two women I never thought would influence my project, Lillian Gish and Audrey Hepburn. One from the early days of cinema, the other from its most glamorous golden age. Two different eras, two distinct kinds of illumination. Both have entered my creative sphere with a gentle persistence I am unable to ignore.

I discovered Lillian Gish only recently, tucked inside a box of treasures a friend sent me. Something about her quiet strength, her ethereal resilience, and her ability to hold entire worlds with a single look resonated with me at just the right moment. I find myself drawn to her not because she was a star, but because she survived a century without letting it harden her. She has quickly become an archetype in the story I’m building, a soft spine of steel force who connects past and present in ways I didn’t anticipate.

And then there’s Audrey Hepburn, the familiar comfort, the grace I grew up knowing, but am only now truly seeing. I’ve been watching her films without an apparent reason, just following a feeling. Maybe it’s the gentleness. Maybe it’s the discipline beneath her lightness. Maybe it’s the permission to be both delicate and unbreakable. Regardless of the reason, I’m listening.

I’ve taken a step back from the Paris Project for a few months, not because I doubt, but because I trust. There’s a time for writing and a time for gathering, and now I’m gathering. Not rushing. Not forcing. Just letting these influences, these women, these unexpected threads speak when they’re ready. The story will wait, and the characters will grow deeper.

Plus, I’m learning that sometimes the most important work happens during the pause. So, I’m letting Lillian and Audrey guide me for a while — two quiet mentors bridging time, reminding me that creativity isn’t always a sprint. Sometimes it’s a soft, steady unfolding.

And I’m here for that.