Been thinking a lot about the significance of these pages. I think my fibromyalgia burned my life, as I knew it, to the ground. As I’ve written before I was physically, emotionally, intellectually and spiritually bereft.
I had to redefine who I was. It was not my physical body, what I did or what I had. I had to find my soul.
The woman in the window (below the moon) holds my soul, the gremlin clinging to the woman silhouetted in the moon is stealing my soul and the oyster shell on the next page has opened to show my soul: A soul born of the irritations of life’s passages.
Moon River is a metaphor for where life has carried me