room full of mirrors

To live in a room of mirrors and to not recognize the person staring back at you is the strangest feeling. It’s like in the movies when your reflection moves and you don’t - except it’s not. It is you and your brain just doesn’t believe it. Thankfully that feeling can go away. I don’t paint myself out of vanity or arrogance, I do it to better recognize the woman in the mirror. Relishing the curvature of my brush instead of hinging on minutiae gives me literal and metaphorical relief.

To allow myself to be my own muse is cathartic.

It’s beautiful.

It’s freedom.

*photo taken at No Goodbyes, The Line Hotel DC