An untidy and honest story about rediscovering myself and embracing life at a different pace.
If truth could wrap itself around muscle and bone, it would settle in the structure of your shoulders and all that they have carried.
I have never developed the ability to quantify pain. I get lost in a maze of perspective where subjectivity battles with analysis and words fail me.
Now the fractures and blunt force traumas of your past life and the details of the times you lost yourself have been erased and you are left with only a few short years of history to comprehend. It still shakes you to your core, a place you once believed was populated with strength above all else.
Like when someone you haven't seen in months doesn't notice how much weight you've lost and emptiness tastes so much better than food for a few days after...
When the windows shake in their frames and you try to figure out how close the explosion was, how likely it is that your friends or your family might have been near there or actually there...
Some people come to life in the summer. I am not solar-powered. I am not a heat-seeking missile. My most beautiful memories are of the cold and the dark. Winter has blessed me with the most meaningful of experiences, so it will always be beautiful to me.
I was a professional photographer. I struggle with the use of the word ‘was’ because it denotes a relegation to the past, as if no longer doing something as a job somehow negates the education, training and experience that went into being able to do it as a job in the first place.
...and if the soldiers want to use the bathroom, that’s fine. Just make sure they leave their guns outside so they don’t scare the students.
This morning I awoke to a chill in the air, rain not falling but suspended in the tension of August, the cobbles on the street outside slick and glistening. With the window open, I settled back against my pillows allowing the dull ache in the base of my spine to fade into a rolling mist of moments and memories.