Gia Raquel

We all begin somewhere. I don’t mean our passion or drive, or hatred or fear. We begin here. We begin in the midst of thoughts and longing. We are compiled of dust; skin under nails, light in our eyes, lines around our smiles. There we are, a mere idea of fear or love in the minds of wishful children. We see the darkness as a clean slate, warmth and water caresses our skin. There’s muffled voices echoing around us, indescribable words bouncing off soft heads and shut eyes. We hear life all around and know nothing of it. Then there is it, brightness and beauty, swirling like a Starry Night around untouched irises. From the very moment we scream out and inhale the tainted world, we begin to accept the broken perfection and perceived life.

It is all wondrous blur as we find our paths through dwindling dirt roads and pristine glass stairs. We look under the sofas for loose change, but find ourselves, mere hours earlier, gone and forgotten.

Dust clusters around our feet as they jump from mary janes to converse to high heels. Our breaths turn to ash against the ever bustling wind, whipping at chopped hair and lost eyelashes.

Fear is an addiction; a beautiful disease. We grow, blindly feeling the braille of our mother’s cooking, of our father’s booming voice, of a child’s small hand reaching our tears.

We look both ways as we cross the streets, looking at the youths and deceased surrounding our vision. We see mirages of individuality amongst crowds. But in the end, we all look forward. We all attempt to move forward.