ghkristjansdottir [at] 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.