One day I met a girl |on Instagram|

Or rather, a woman

And she reminded me in just a few short words

Of all things I had become, and had been.

She told me that when people liked her art it made her day

And I remembered how we do not tell eachother enough

How needed we are

How beautiful your work is

How lovely, the colour of your hair and your dreams of the stars.

I looked then,

And saw in the mirror

The losses we carry

On the way to becoming ourselves

And how we rebirth it into colour + words and weave it into our messages | words + art + all of the things that we carry our heart in |

And I thought of you. I thought of the day I left photography, to write these words for you forever. I thought of the day I visited the stars and was told, you must decide, this way or that way, and you can make art for them or you can make your life your art, and so I made the choice and now I don’t carry a camera but what remains

Are the words that I

Paint.

For You.

And she paints art for me.

And yet we create

For nobody but

Our dancing self

Even when we think nobody cares

And that is the way of the artist

And the bones of these things we build upon

Civilisation or undoing of the soul

Until we remember

Who

We

Are.

And it is ok then to be the hummingbird

Scratching at the surface of new things

Along the way

and the hummingbird travels by following the signs we forgot

So some of us were put here to show one another the way.  It always begins with

The rawness of a new and awkward hello

Yet somehow we always find one another in the stumbling,

I she and she me

(and sometimes he) and this is how together we lead one another

In the he|art of it all

So even in the midst of your greatest undoings you must know

Someone somewhere is looking and thinking about nothing less

than you

And the stars.

xo