“For in every adult there dwells the child that was, and in every child there lies the adult that will be.” - John Connolly A moment in my life when I was still living with both my parents and my brother. The spaces were small, the rooms full of history and tension. Prayers and holy scriptures above every door. There was a lot to process, entanglements, unspoken truths, outspoken frustrations directed at innocence. My father’s cigarette smoke would fill the rooms on a daily basis. A youth lived in a toxic fog. And still, moments of stillness, pictures taken, playing at being a kid, emulating happiness. Looking back, I feel it was such a long journey looking for safety. The body was a closet to hide in, trying to give away as few signs as possible of one’s own fragility. Too sensitive for a world that kept growing harsher. And it still does. But we learn to pretend better and better. Acting in, acting out. x