A reoccurring dream.
I think I was possessed, it went on until my hands were too cold to continue
Because snow, material
Flowering
Day 161
One year ago, a short trip to Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam allowed me to experience colors in a way that cannot be conveyed wholesomely in American. I stood on the pathways and felt the weight of how dense the forests were. The air was filled with the smell of fire wood and each foot step was heavy as I left imprints of my body on the Earth. Every morning parts of myself transformed, they became temporal and weightless with the wind. I stood on the land where the sounds of healing was banal. In this short trip, I encountered the invisibility of people's lives, some of them named but forgotten. The wind carried me back to the land known as the free and the violence that I onced embraced translated into a wound that begged to be healed. In the short journey to discover myself, the colors of my history burned into my memories. Today these colors guide my everyday, their significance appear in vibrations and wrapped around my body. I saw change and met death in the romance of my ancestors' history.
Day 139