Photo Journals January to June 2020

There’s a little girl I talk to sometimes.
She sits across from me, and I tell her about the things I do. She listens, always hungry for stories. To me it’s just life, but to her, it sounds just like a dream. Like the movies she watches alone, and the charachters in them, whose lives and stories she idolizes and is so eager to follow someday. And here I am, revealing to her how it’s all possible.

I tell her everything. Everything. How adventurous she will be. How she will travel the world, go places, meet people, speak languages, make friends, make love.
Romance. Drama. Comedy. A bit of Terror too. But that’s good, we enjoy all the movies, don’t we? She will do what she loves. Create. Until this will become her only job. And this job will take her places too. She will live and love so much. Laugh so loud… and cry too. Because yes, there will be darkness at times. But she will be fine even then. Uncertainty will join her in every move, but so will courage.

And then I finally tell her what I know she’s dying to know: she will live alone. She will have a cute little space entirely to herself. Oh yes, solitude can be a dream for a little girl. And there will be no school, other than life.

I stop, and she begs me to keep going. “More. Tell me more”.
And I ask her to be patient, I have yet to find out, to live. But I promise I will keep coming back and tell her stories.

Because talking to her is what keeps me going when I’m tired and I want to stop.
I see the excitement on her face and I know I have to keep going, get out there, do new things, and get uncomfortable. If only just for her. I do it all for her. I live so I can tell her all about it.