There's the 2019 new year and then there's my own new year coming this February. My birthday is on the fourteenth, overshadowed by that occasion that has remained alien to my own life. Despite all the marketing maximising the event to include everyone you love, the core of Valentine remains to be about lovers. And a love story is something that has always eluded me in real life.
Thus my art and stories were born out of that absence. First an impossible garden and then it grew deeper into a wildforest. I am a wandering would-be queen in a kingdom haunted by a blue-heart king. There are hundreds of fairy tales, and yet it is all about the one same story.
Sometimes, like today, I find myself at a crossroads, and I contemplate trading off this fairy tale for a forgetting and a fortune. I have shed so much of my old lives, skinned raw, exhausted to the bone, all in quest of a Story that has slept so long waiting to come true. But today the maps I have drawn are riddled with the markings of too many dead ends.