This summer has been pure poetry. Love, loss, adventure, nostalgia, magic.
I thrive on this stuff – on new faces and familiar places, hotels and humidity and memories – reliving the old and making new.
I was born on the move. I live to love and let go.
She said it right, my mom, how I leave a piece of myself wherever I go…but I also take something with me. This is why I’m always changing, shedding my skin to open new eyes.
I think about regrets, choices and words that haunted me, and I turn a fresh page. To know this – that I had loved with all of me and tried my best and that’s what made it enough – this changes everything.
To live without holding back is often painful; but I’ve learned to not hate myself for the things that make me brave.
This is freedom – to walk humid streets and find no stranger.
This is magic – to see yourself as mystery and flawed and to choose love.
This is living deep. Poetry.