This is coming unfiltered from MIA where I still have one more leg to go back home. What a trip.

I feel this is an entire dissertation. Water and fire as storytelling centers.

The entire building’s floor is these plates. If you never felt ghosts of emotion before, this place forces you to confront their grief, rage, and hope with every step. Again. Wow.

The first shot is of one of the metal plates of melted down guns, hammered into shape by victims of sexual violence by the many armed combatants over the years. Chilling use of art in memory and fragments. Incredible and humbling.

I appreciate both my therapist and nutritionist for teasing out this side of my own shame. As well as fellow writers who reflect this back to me in a way I can grease. In this day of my solar return, I’m exploring hunger in my writing in, hopefully, a cathartic way.

Hunger encompasses so much, not just food, especially as someone living with ADHD. Anything to fill this dopamine deprivation, right? Thankfully, lately, I’ve had the resources to really focus on and understand what is happening to me.