"You gotta believe in the things you put faith in."
wordsasfruit.substack.com
This past weekend a friend, Lorenzo Diggins Jr., celebrated the release of the fourth issue of Find Peace. Keep Peace., one of his many self-published creative visions. I believe Lorenzo’s depth of thought and intention is what makes each issue feel like a masterpiece and I use the word, “feel” with specific purpose. Words, and language have always had a way of holding me. In my adolescence, my nose remained buried in a book because the words allowed me to nestle into a space and a world that took me outside of the one I lived in. Raised in a predominately white environment, the world outside of my home, was a world that didn’t care much for me and so, at an incredibly young age I was tasked with the responsibility of learning to care, mostly emotionally, for myself. This is not to say that I did not receive care, and love, from my family, and a small but very mighty community of individuals outside of them, but there was an internal care that was necessary to meet needs which, at such a young age, I had neither the language or level of self-awareness to name, or communicate. Reading was both an escape, and home place, and writing offered me a space to mull over thoughts, questions, and feelings, and express, to myself, for myself, the often inexpressible. Fast forward to the present and I still find words and language to be a place within which I can feel, fill, and be held.
"You gotta believe in the things you put faith in."
"You gotta believe in the things you put…
"You gotta believe in the things you put faith in."
This past weekend a friend, Lorenzo Diggins Jr., celebrated the release of the fourth issue of Find Peace. Keep Peace., one of his many self-published creative visions. I believe Lorenzo’s depth of thought and intention is what makes each issue feel like a masterpiece and I use the word, “feel” with specific purpose. Words, and language have always had a way of holding me. In my adolescence, my nose remained buried in a book because the words allowed me to nestle into a space and a world that took me outside of the one I lived in. Raised in a predominately white environment, the world outside of my home, was a world that didn’t care much for me and so, at an incredibly young age I was tasked with the responsibility of learning to care, mostly emotionally, for myself. This is not to say that I did not receive care, and love, from my family, and a small but very mighty community of individuals outside of them, but there was an internal care that was necessary to meet needs which, at such a young age, I had neither the language or level of self-awareness to name, or communicate. Reading was both an escape, and home place, and writing offered me a space to mull over thoughts, questions, and feelings, and express, to myself, for myself, the often inexpressible. Fast forward to the present and I still find words and language to be a place within which I can feel, fill, and be held.