There is that deep inner, innate awareness that a word or an event can ignite something in someone’s life, right when it is most needed. The realisation that my experiences came to me for a reason, forced my pen to scribble. Most moments came to me because I simply, but unconsciously, asked for them. Others happened because I wasn’t switched on and needed a wake-up call. So with so many tiny memories, recalled and thought of, I write in full compassion of my instinctive ability to make a difference, through bold expression and interaction. I believe this life has given me the humble opportunity to meet any individual wherever they may be in their own journey.
This is a peek into my closet, a secret passageway to my journal, my stumbles and life on this planet. My parents, the child that I lost, the brokenness, the written aches, the letters to those who destroyed, words from my diary, Yoga, dance, deathly silence, death, suicide, motherhood, womanhood, love, fragility and life; one word, one event, one experience at a time, I share it all …with the world.