This is your periodic reminder that every book you’ve ever read, every piece of art you’ve ever enjoyed, every song you’ve ever screamed is the middle of a story of its own telling. The beginning was smaller, the beginning might have been a string of words that made no sense or a doodle or a hum. It journeyed through creation to find you, it was made and moulded and edited and redrawn by a dear unsure but gloriously persistent soul.
Now it’s here with you and you are creating it, too, giving it lungs and breath and sending it out. And there is no end in sight, art is never finished. It is shared and the sharing put winds in its sails and sends it away.
Or inside you. Where seeds land and a hum begins. Or a doodle. Or a string of words.
So begin. Begin. Begin.
