When she left Colombia, she didn’t take much with her. There was a suitcase, and inside it were only the things that mattered most: a Bible, a camera, and the equipment she uses to record music. Everything else stayed behind.

At the time, she didn’t know exactly what the journey would become. She traveled from Colombia to Panama, then on to Amsterdam in 2022. It was a movement across continents, but emotionally it was something else entirely. It was the beginning of a life she would have to build again from the ground up.

Now 26, she sits in a quiet corner of the interview room reflecting on how distance changed her understanding of the past.

“When you are inside a dangerous situation, you don’t feel it,” she says slowly. “Later, when you leave, you understand.”

For years, she had lived with situations that felt normal because they were familiar. Only after leaving did she begin to see them differently. The realisation came gradually. Back in Colombia, she had been working creatively as a photographer. She had always been drawn to documenting the world around her. Creativity was something she carried from childhood, along with a strong instinct to help others. As a teenager she even spent time helping in community work connected to the police, motivated by a youthful dream of becoming a detective and protecting people.

But life grew more complicated as she got older. Certain experiences connected to her work made her feel increasingly unsafe.

She remembers the moment when the decision not to return became clear.

“I really don’t want to go back to Colombia,” she says. “I don’t feel safe there.”

The realisation wasn’t dramatic. It was quieter than that, a feeling that settled slowly once she was already far away. But that safety came with a cost. To protect herself, she closed parts of her old life. Social media accounts were shut down. Connections tied to her past became distant. She describes the process as starting again from zero. For many people rebuilding a life after migration, the first months can feel uncertain. For her, something else began to take shape in that time: faith.

Within weeks of arriving in the Netherlands, she began attending church more regularly and reading the Bible daily. Prayer became part of her routine. Over time, it grew into the foundation that helps her navigate the uncertainty of starting over.

“The first thing I do is put all my anxiety on God,” she says.

Every morning begins with prayer and reading scripture. This practice grounds her day and offers a sense of stability when so much else is still uncertain. Music has also become part of that process. She writes songs based on her life experiences and religious experience.

“When I write songs, it’s about what happened in my life,” she explains. “When you sing it, you feel it in a different way.” Music does that.

Her creativity (photography, music, video) continues to be one of the ways she processes the past while imagining the future. Life in the Netherlands has brought safety, but it also comes with challenges. The one she mentions most often is work. Because of her current legal situation, she cannot yet work fully, and that absence of routine is difficult.

“It’s important for people to have a routine,” she says. “When you can’t work, it’s hard.” Yet she still finds ways to stay active in the locoal community. She volunteers helping visitors in wheelchairs move around a museum, assisting them as they navigate the space. It’s simple work, but it allows her to feel useful and connected.

Outside of volunteering, she spends time exploring the her local environment by bike. Sometimes riding long distances, just to see whats there before riding back.

Her family remains in Colombia. She speaks with her mother almost every day and talks often with her younger sister. When asked what she misses from home, the answer comes quickly. “My family,” she says. Even after leaving, her identity remains deeply tied to where she came from.

“Even if I receive another passport, I’m from Colombia,” she explains.

The future she imagines is both practical and hopeful. She would like to study further and eventually work in administration, filmmaking, or social organisations that support people in need. One day, she even dreams of starting her own organisation. She also imagines something simpler: a family, three children, and perhaps a quieter life outside the city. For now, she focuses on small steps: Faith, Creativity, Service, and Patience.

The journey that began with a suitcase is still unfolding.

But one thing is already clear to her.

“Now,” she says softly, “I’m safe. Really safe.”