Last week, I took Saturn to get to work. I was transported through early morning light filtered between fast-moving fog. Patches of light illuminated an awakening city and a groggy thought: having money is relative, class is not.
Lately my days have been consumed with centering my sense of self in a world that does not hear my voice, no matter how loud or assimilated. I seek expressions that are creative, diverse, and evolved – not conditional.
When my mind wanders, it finds you. These willful transactions have underscored learning, consent, and discovery through exploration. I trust this voice; its cadence is drawn from failure.
I know what I want.