I spent woman’s day with fabulous women who chose to open up their deep baskets and tenderly share of themselves. Our conversations ranged from body image to our sense of self, to that initial moment it occurred that actually “I’m a woman.” We conversed on our use of time, and at the end wrote out our eulogies [scripting how on our last day on this earth we would wish to have lived out our lives].
S E L F P O T R A I T | IN C O N G R U E N CE
Her body is history. Two decades-long and counting. History is winter, autumn, summer, spring. Seasons & bones. Alike they break and reset.
Ashen winter logs, autumn leaves crayoned in fades, sapphires & burning oranges. Spring floristry peeling open like artwork at the sharp angle where her cheek and eye muscles join.
Soft summer rainbows reeling from her shoulders, sinking in her collar cleft, climbing up her neckline, pirouetting into yellow dots, inked over her strong cheekbones. Rising, till the soft bend of her brow. Continue reading “Congruence “I meet together, I agree””