The way the wax makes love to the wane: this is the faithfulness you are held with.
The sacred excavation of helixed antiquity and brand-newness.
Infinity wants nothing so much as to fit its limitless rampant vastness into the littlest of spaces.
Womanhood, and my struggle to contend with its many definitions and impressions on my life. Honest reflections on girlhood and growth, and the revolution of the sacred feminine.
She, who is fearless, who walks out of the wilderness feral-shouldered and unbroken.
If there's one thing I love, it's sweet-talking plants. Tu B'Shvat Sameach!
Even the breeze who incessantly sweet-talks the rose knows she was born thorned for good reason.
