SHAMELESS, lewis hamilton¹

17

Hobbies. They were normal to have. You could have one, or two or a hundred if you so wished. For some, hobbies were something a person enjoyed, spending much of their free time doing them. Most of the time hobbies weren't something people would do for the rest of their lives. Because as they grow older the less spare time they have to use on their hobbies, as they are busy with their careers on something they don't actually feel anything for and then they'd get children, which also eats away all their hours leaving them with no time for their passions.

For Mirabella, hobbies were an obsession. She became engrossed in them. Hyperfixating on every little detail. Her first hobby was found when she was four and saw twenty-two race car drivers driving around different tracks all around the world, competing for first place at such high speeds that made her mother panic. But for her it made a grin spread across her face and excitement would fill her stomach as she watched them. She would then find out everything she could about her obsessions, from past champions, each track, how the cars worked and every different part of them so she'd understand why her favourite drivers would have to retire suddenly or why a car would be set on fire after a pit stop. Her obsessions became all she could think about, almost making them her personality.

She could easily switch between obsessions, gaining new ones and switching them out with old ones. But it was like some meant more to her than others. Like motorsport and football had stayed, always, even when their surroundings changed. They were permanent in her life. It showed in the way she joined a karting team when she was eight and a football team when she was nine, both being her obsessions at the time. But unlike most, her passion for them never faded. Just because she quit her football team didn't mean she ever lost any interest in the sport. It was still there, even if she had to pick between racing and being a footballer.

Another one of her obsessions was art. But not the art of humans or animals. She liked the art of buildings, architecture. To her architecture was art. Not just what was drawn or painted onto paper and canvases, but also what was sculpted from stone by the civilization of the past. She enjoyed the art of how shapes and colours affected people, what their brains associated them with. Yellow for joy, blue for sadness but the colour could also be associated with calmness when it was the right tone. She loved the way a person's home affected a person's mind more than you would think. How much the right light could make a difference in a room. How warmer light should be used in your home and how colder lights should be used in schools and offices because they make you more aware and concentrated. Or if your room felt grey and slightly depressing you could just turn on the lights, and immediately you'd feel the difference. You'd feel better.

She loved watching renovation TV shows and how the owners of the homes would go from being annoyed and kind of sad all the time to happy. And it was all because of a massive change in their interior that made their home homey.

Interior and architecture was something she began studying in high school, and after ten years she gained a master's degree in interior architecture. All of that was something she achieved on the side while racing in Formula 4, Formula 3 and Formula 2, whilst still gaining the best results in racing as well.

Mirabella used to not be the best at drawing, but after years of practice in drawing different types of buildings, structures and interiors she became pretty good. It was something she used to do often, something she enjoyed, but at one point she just... stopped.

She wasn't sure what made her pick up her drawing board that Thursday and began sketching out on the terrace. Lines and shapes formed into tall walls and glorious arches and ornaments. And suddenly on the piece of paper⏤that used to be empty⏤was a picture, made from the graphite of her pencil, of the inside of the St. Peter's church that she pulled from her memory.