the last whispers of winter
her broken wings find reparation
cage door ajar
the songbird finds her song
in the last whispers of winter
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The streets are no longer empty but sometimes still await our joyful return…
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i make pretty messes
All of the paradox and contradictions. I always wished I could make pretty things. I wish I was a pretty thing. But what’s true is I am messy and complicated. I make more messes. I make pretty messes. I’ve been doing some inner calibration lately and ran across this journal entry from earlier this year. …
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she is us
I realize in viewing it that she’s less the woman in the film specifically and more a composite of many women I’ve met in homeless and domestic violence shelters…
