There was a night when the beat of the city changed and something buried deep inside me finally gave way.

That night police cars and ambulances were playing their own symphony.

My heartbeat starting to raise, trying to match the beat of the city.

A beat that in that moment I could no longer dance to.

I realized then:

Some stories ask to be told in different ways.

Some ache just to only be lived through.

That night I didn’t write anything.

I just sat with it and felt it.

Maybe that’s what this whole journey is.

Allowing yourself to feel and be — give room to the intersections with life that change us when we’re the most dishonest with ourselves.