Give yourself permission to be a five year old again. Play, dream, jump, fall, scrape your knees and collect toads. Skip rope, sing, hide, make up languages and blow spit bubbles. Only you have the power to grant this permission. Play with your ego, but also teach it what it […]
Language is a desperate and clumsy embrace between souls searching for connection. They remember being whole. They yearn to be together again. Prisoners, bound and blindfolded in a dark and lonely prison, touch their feet together to remind themselves that they are not alone. It is a hopeful Boko-maru.
