The big thing on my mind lately has been identity. How do I define myself as an artist, as a woman, in a new town, in a stranger's home, away from friends, without school?
During the weekend I talked with my family and I listened to their stories. Speech is so powerful, and I'm beginning to believe that being able to speak (up, out, or quietly yourself) can only propel your growth forward. What I heard this weekend were stories of healing, of growth, understanding, happiness, and strife. In turn, I felt safe enough to speak frankly about the changes I've been experiencing and it FELT AWESOME to be surrounded by people who connected with those words and emotions.
I am thankful for this wacky family, for the chance to discover myself in this strange town, for dry humour, for wine and women.
And here is a gorgeous green room courtesy of the internet.
