The sacred excavation of helixed antiquity and brand-newness.
Your every step can’t help but grind riots of inquiry into the dusty dirt.
Infinity wants nothing so much as to fit its limitless rampant vastness into the littlest of spaces.
Purim Sameach from your friendly neighborhood sacred feminine uprising!
There is an oceanic pain-knowing, a tide no soul should ever be made to swim against.
I’m talking directly to the tiny little you who lives inside of you.
Let others bask in the surety of sunlight. You were born of the moonlight tribe.
If there's one thing I love, it's sweet-talking plants. Tu B'Shvat Sameach!
