Love Letters to Past Selves, 2023

Lying on the cold smooth floor, I practice recollecting old dreams.
Dreams I salvage from previous versions of myself. Silhouettes of trees in dark woods. Distant, but intimately recognisable to today me.
I salvage hidden demons from ancient nightmares, silent screams and thirst.
I collect the sharp fragrance of night blooming jasmines and ambitions of making big. One day.
I write to us: tender notes in latticed sun.
Speaking of melted ice-cream, birdsong and rainbow sprinkles. 

In the studio these ‘notes’ I write to past mes – love bursting at the seams for that little child, that young lady – explore making as a practice of care.