forever, perhaps now more than ever, in service of tenderness

I love life so much. I love it because it's delightful and maybe also because I know it ends one day, and I don't know when, and I don't know how. There is intrigue. I have devoted my craft to the intrigue, to taking the time — to pause, listen, reflect, enquire. To do this is to be immersed in the passing moment, and the next, and the one after that. 'Now' ends as soon as it begins. I think about this all the time and not out of fear, rather curiosity, which is another word for love. I seek to translate this love, the endless now, its transience and its fragility into form, to give them a shape, a colour, a texture.

I do this because I love life. So much. 

I get to do this. I get to indulge in those metaphysical musings and build intimacy with my senses. I get to do this because there is space, because I feel safe. In my body, in my home, in my chosen country. I get to roam around on a Saturday morning, swallowed by the fog, entranced by the poetry wrapped around my entire body. And the streets are empty, because my neighbours partied last night and they are sleeping, still.

I get to do this. I get to revel in my fleeting human experience. And I grieve for those who don't. All we have is each other.

I don't know where you are, I don't know what you're up to these days, how you are feeling today. Regardless, may you hold someone, may you be held back. I am forever — perhaps now more than ever, in service of tenderness.