Brethren, let us now hear the end of the whole matter:
Movement is a dialogue in continuum: the body and the mind are always in crisis, trying to reimagine what they have been named.
And so we lifted up our eyes, thirsting for sunlight. We opened ourselves to the knowledge of the roadside, the truth of the streets, the pulse of the everyday—slippery in its simplicity but devoid of sophistication’s mask.
Nothing is as breakable as a map uncontested. I push away this map before me, this construct that fails so elegantly to define who I am. I embrace instead, the map my mind has made: of people, of places, of lines I have carried my body through, of hours filled with targeted and undulating questioning.
See, my truth is an open door, allowing the truths of others. My truth is a full embrace. I have a fuller list of things I have escaped; things I have renamed.
There are many ways of seeing. I know this in two dimensions: first as a principle and secondly as a practice. But now I know this in other ways because I am present on both sides of a coin, borrowing the eyes of others when mine have failed to see.
Fear is always a present choice, unresolved like an extra luggage. Journey soft, journey well, dear traveler.
*Photograph by Zaynab Odunsi