The cities of our arrival, abundant with unknowns, wonders––offered moment by moment possibilities for our annihilation and station after station for our becoming. There was so little we knew, and now we knew it. Knowing we lacked the words, we opened ourselves in these new cities. We became vessels carrying music and walked forward, holding.
Until when? Someone asked. Until the rhythm invites us. What rhythm? said another, and it was time.
It was time ! Well written.👌👌
Priti, thank you for being here. : )
It’s my pleasure 😊 stay blessed. Do visit my blog 😃 also
I love the pictures you use for your pieces. This feels like how early European migrants may have experienced the big cities of the United States when they first arrived.