…the back of a bartender’s shirt, the edge of an eavesdropped conversation, the ink of a stranger’s tattoo… IT beckoned from the depths of its expanse, daring me to linger in a space we've been taught to condense into a single moment; a temporal threshold over which our NEW self anxiously awaits our inhabitance the moment the clock strikes twelve…
Allowing Inclinations to eclipse resolutions, I stepped into this recondite space as the calendar year began, curious as to what it desired of me rather than i of it; relishing the brazenness of nothing and the way it gently nips at new + bare iterations of self; the old slowly shed rather than torn away…
i'm still resisting the urge to dive back into overdrive as i drop back into LEONA, my mind a naked canvas upon which an arsenal of (unsurprisingly) unorthodox ideas have already begun to land… so much to share! Happy lunar new year…More soon 🖤
