It’s not about being whole, it’s about recognizing the strength that exists in every fragment left when life tears everything down. It is far from what the head thinks and very close to what the soul desires. It has nothing to do with waiting, but with what one is, now in its most primitive and pure form. Full of fury, delirium and drunkenness. Made to set fire. Voracious. Visceral. Something that shines and burns. It excites and ignites. A constant restlessness, but also surrender, surrender and redemption. Recognition and forgiveness. Relief and resumption.
