I’m starting something new.
A quiet invitation to myself.

To show up more.
To be more open.
To offer one image, one story, one fragment of my life at a time.

Not to perform, but to be seen.
Not to explain, but to share.
To honour where I come from, who I’ve been, and who I’m still becoming

This is the photo my father gave to my mother,

with a note that read:

“Goddess, keep him safe—may he forever be yours, until eternity’s end.”

Young man in a white shirt stands with gentle intensity, eyes steady, mouth soft. A quiet strength in his posture, as if offering something unspoken to someone he loves.

I come from that kind of love.

Two people who loved each other deeply.

Tenderly. Imperfectly. Fiercely.

Through sickness, struggle, and uncertainty,

they stayed soft.

And I was raised in that field of devotion.

Even with the weight of my father’s illness,

and all the silences it brought into our home,

I still feel lucky.

Privileged, even.

To be the result of love like that.

I look into his eyes in this photo,

and I see a man I’m still learning to understand.

I see the roots of who I am.

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A Man I’m Still Learning to Understand