She does not speak of it—
the things she carries, the quiet weight of all she has become.
It lives beneath the surface, woven into her breath, her stillness, her gentle way of being.
Not everything is meant to be seen. Some things are meant to be held—
softly, carefully, as a part of who she is.
She does not speak of it—
the things she carries, the quiet weight of all she has become.
It lives beneath the surface, woven into her breath, her stillness, her gentle way of being.
Not everything is meant to be seen. Some things are meant to be held—
softly, carefully, as a part of who she is.
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