Every image she sees
– so full of light and shadow –
has been telling her,
her skin is not her own.

She lost herself long ago
when she invited
past lovers, her husband,
her children, society,
to find comfort in the space
between her flesh and soul,
and amongst the folds
where light and shadow play.

Today she decided
to stop taking pretty pictures
and instead to tell the truth.

For the curious onlooker, I created some images today that were “just for me.” Maybe someday I’ll share those images publicly. For now, they are password protected, for me to share with those whom I trust. Of course, that is not what art is. Art is vulnerability. But at least I’ve taken a step in the right direction of creating something not with the intention of creating “pretty” or “perfect” pictures, but which show me, on an ordinary morning in my own skin, in the spotty light that comes into our bedroom.

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