One at a time

When I was younger, I could never flow openly, only in the hidden corners of a dairy tucked away because the hold of perfection had strong imprints on mind. Creative work is messy, imperfectly perfect, it mingles with experiences and grows. Growth and change never stops are never perfect. I always thought I want to do this but better. Only now, I know how transcendent that journey of revealing the imperfect self is. The work evolves as us but a child know it’s always complete at the start of “A” and at the end of “Z”

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