This piece is a reflection on wonder, art, and the ache of craving deeper connection in a hyper-automated, hyper-curated world. It’s for anyone who's felt restless in the mundane and still believes in the magic of the human mind.
Elaine Degró
I am sitting quietly, grieving in silence. My hands rest neatly in my lap. My new bangs hide my swollen eyelids. My fingers — raw from being picked at — tell on me. I look out the window, tempted to publicly shame you. But I don’t. I won’t. So I
None of us asked for this version of the world. But here we are. So we teach our children how to move through it... where safety lives, where it doesn’t, and who to call for when fear rises. Mothers have always been the quiet network. The watchers. The ones
There is a softness inside me that I wish I could share with the world. But I learned very early on that softness is an open door for those who want to come in and wreak havoc on my soul. One time, I was extra soft. I showed someone the
I was a gypsy in your winds. But now I've settled into something I didn’t know I was supposed to become. Secretly…between you and me… I feel trapped. The darkness that once empowered me is trickling away, and all I once was is no longer welcome.