I wish I could draw a little something for you to explain the picture of us, of what could have been, that won't leave my head. But I've never been one to sketch or paint; I'm far too much of a perfectionist for that. & so these images will exist only for me. Selfishly, I'll keep them to myself.
I'm brave enough to write this here, in my little corner of the internet, but not brave enough to let you know how much you scare me. Because where so much could go right, it could also go quite wrong, and I'm not sure I'm ready to make that leap of faith.
Vulnerability, my old friend, why have you shown your face again?
Always,
L.A.
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