once upon a time, there lived a young girl in a small, peanut-shaped country in the heart of africa. she didn't speak much but she observed her surroundings with a disarming intensity. the girl swallowed sentences regardless of social etiquette: the back of kellogs boxes in the mornings, eyes squinted at pages under late-afternoon shadows, open books next to plates of food at the dinner table...
a good deal of her childhood was spent with a family of seven, five of whom were children bursting with creativity. sadly, the children and their parents kept moving further and further away from the young girl's home. first to a different suburb, then a different city, next a different country, until the little people (who had significantly grown) were living on different continents.
one day, the young girl (you might call her a young woman now) met one of the children of this dear family (you might call her a young woman now) in a cafe at the southernmost tip of africa. they spoke at length and were surprised by the convergences of their seperate life stories: feminism, thoughts on spirituality, an avidity for writing, a passion for social change.
after the young girl/woman left the conversation and the cafe, she felt alive. the world seemed full of possibilities and her head was full of ideas. her hands were buzzing with energy and her heart felt like it was taking up more space in her chest.
a little while later, the young girl/woman came across a pink-and-white-delight. it was love at first sight. as she read, she could taste every single word on her tongue. she could feel the vibrations of each thought as it danced in her mind. she was amazed that this inspirational writing came from a real live human being, a creative child who grew to be, among other things, a faiytale blogmother. she is the reason this blog exists.
a good deal of her childhood was spent with a family of seven, five of whom were children bursting with creativity. sadly, the children and their parents kept moving further and further away from the young girl's home. first to a different suburb, then a different city, next a different country, until the little people (who had significantly grown) were living on different continents.
one day, the young girl (you might call her a young woman now) met one of the children of this dear family (you might call her a young woman now) in a cafe at the southernmost tip of africa. they spoke at length and were surprised by the convergences of their seperate life stories: feminism, thoughts on spirituality, an avidity for writing, a passion for social change.
after the young girl/woman left the conversation and the cafe, she felt alive. the world seemed full of possibilities and her head was full of ideas. her hands were buzzing with energy and her heart felt like it was taking up more space in her chest.
a little while later, the young girl/woman came across a pink-and-white-delight. it was love at first sight. as she read, she could taste every single word on her tongue. she could feel the vibrations of each thought as it danced in her mind. she was amazed that this inspirational writing came from a real live human being, a creative child who grew to be, among other things, a faiytale blogmother. she is the reason this blog exists.
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