GUÐRÚN HELGA KRISTJÁNSDÓTTIR
ghkristjansdottir@gmail.com
 

Lost, insecure and lonely.

Breaking out of the prison of my own upbringing.

I have to be strong, steady, and brave.

My creativity will be the opposite of the form I was chained to in my childhood.

My root is still there though it is dry, I rolled around in agony trying to kill it.

Who am I?

My tear runs to the ground and the root drinks this bitter drink.

I can feel a connection to myself, and I start to see beautiful things in the world that I was raised in.