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My life as a writer
Long before I picked up a camera, I was a writer. Words helped channel the frenzied feelings of my teenage years. They kept me company at night. Soothed my spirit. My bedroom is piled high with old journals, mostly from my pre-mother days when I’d indulge in hours of self care before attempting work. An…
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If your womb could speak, what would she say?
If your womb could speak, she wouldn’t whisper. She would roar. Like the wind across the machair on a stormy day. Or the waves crashing on ancient rocks. Like the deep pulse of the earth herself. Not in anger. In remembering. She would say: “I have never left you. Even when you abandoned me for…
