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Stories in Our Bodies

I love geeking out about the human figure - every size, shape and age. I see beauty in all of it. I love the plump thick form of youth- full of whatever possibilities may lie ahead. And I love how time and wisdom seem to reveal themselves through paper thin skin. Exposing rivers of veins and highways of wrinkles, telling a lifetime of stories and all the stacked up experiences within each of us.

I love people’s stories, how they came to be who they are in the world and how they express themselves. IF they express themselves in the world? If not, what holds them back? I love honor and respect the things that show up on faces and bodies that make them unique and are impossible to hide. Not because it’s easy, but precisely because it’s not. What is exposed is so real and therefore beautiful. There is so much power in what is real. As someone who has the choice to hide in plain sight, I'm aware of my privilege and I can only acknowledge the pressure and courage it takes to exist in the world without choice about what is revealed. I had a choice and decided to go for it (not nearly as courageous), but still scary as shit.


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