"Art does not reproduce the visible; it makes visible."
Here’s what I know: there are some wounds that would take some time to heal. Some pieces of yourself that will remain lost. Some aches that will always be there. But there will be days, too, when joy finds you unexpectedly. When you turn the pages of a book, or when you are flying your kite, or when you are sitting on your porch holding a cold bottle—you’ll find that life is actually good, and it’s worth it, all that hurt, just to be here. Now. (And when it isn’t—well, you know that I have your back, yeah?)