LA wasn’t a place that celebrated subtleties. That’s probably why I had to leave before I could return.

I don’t know what I’m doing most days. I see beauty, and I try to respond. I feel the ache to create something that matters, something that carries truth. I have no mentor, no clear path, no one holding the light steady for me. Just the hope that if I stay open, if I keep noticing, maybe that’s enough to begin.

I speak when I’m not sure of the words. I make things even when I question if they’re worth anything. I’ve stopped trying to sound smart. I just want to be real.