Welcome to the last year of this textual/visual diary. Exploring words, spaces and aesthetics. 

Hey, Little Dreamer

Hey, Little Dreamer

There are some of us who can never be free. Trapped in the prisons of our minds. Those erected by our very own two hands and usually with the help of others along the way. "Watch — what you say, how you talk, what you wear" they say. These helping hands we approved of along the way. And sometimes we can never be free of their mis and preconceptions.

I found myself looking in the mirror today and my heart quietly whispered "you are beautiful." For a bit I stood and admired myself, for what I feel are my flaws. The light was gentle on my skin. Most times I barely see the other side of my face. Hidden and tucked away, I now see it's growing into it's own kind of woman. I am growing into my own kind of woman. Even in this prison I have built for myself, I am not hopeless or helpless, no.

There is a way out. For you, for me, for everyone trapped in their own little private hell.

You will grow your way out into your own kind of human.

 

{Hello, 2017} 

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Beginning middle end.

SOUTH SUMMER HEAT

SOUTH SUMMER HEAT