I am grateful for the power of love and magic writing holds. Writing is about getting up, getting well, and getting over. While I may not be a writer in its truest sense, I write because it fills me with hope and is the light that guides me home. A journal in your drawer or the draft of a novel waiting to be published or quick notes on your phone or maybe letters to a stranger…don’t ever stop. Every little note, haiku or post I have written over the years, came together as this unusual yet vivid mosaic wall. A wall of rage, joy, hormones, heartbreak, fear, anxiety, friendship, love and so much more. A wall with clusters of colours ― blacks and blues with bits of golden yellow cutting through and dots of green in between. A wall of my story and my journey, when looked at in isolation were ceramic shards but when put together made a beautiful mosaic wall of memories…of life.
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