Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Not everything comes at once.
Some of my writings are born through pieces.
Over time.
Whether a line in the margins of my notebook or a quick thought in the Notes app, they are conceived, but never fully developed.
I must sit with them until the moment comes.
With my voice, I try to call each one from the darkness into the light.
The pages before you have heeded my beckoning into the world.
This is a physical copy.
Not everything comes at once.
Some of my writings are born through pieces.
Over time.
Whether a line in the margins of my notebook or a quick thought in the Notes app, they are conceived, but never fully developed.
I must sit with them until the moment comes.
With my voice, I try to call each one from the darkness into the light.
The pages before you have heeded my beckoning into the world.
This is a physical copy.
