Instagram Story speichern

“When she posses her followers she dances, flirts then weeps— because no one can love her enough and the world is not as beautiful as she knows it could possibly be”

#120film #mediumformatfilm #filmisnotdead

**Reposting bc of Censorship**
Such a powerful experience to be able to capture women embodying themselves fully. This is connected to a project coming out soon directed by: @charlieannmax and shot by: @jtngu
+++
Swipe for a journal reading for those who feel called to report this post. Written many moons ago yet still relevant. For those who do not feel autonomy over their own bodies;listen or read along to me unpacking mine. Tell me yours if u feel called. It’s all love 💕

**Reposting bc of Censorship**
Such a powerful experience to be able to capture women embodying themselves fully. This is connected to a project coming out soon directed by: @charlieannmax and shot by: @jtngu
+++
Swipe for a journal reading for those who feel called to report this post. Written many moons ago yet still relevant. For those who do not feel autonomy over their own bodies;listen or read along to me unpacking mine. Tell me yours if u feel called. It’s all love 💕

**Reposting bc of Censorship**
Such a powerful experience to be able to capture women embodying themselves fully. This is connected to a project coming out soon directed by: @charlieannmax and shot by: @jtngu
+++
Swipe for a journal reading for those who feel called to report this post. Written many moons ago yet still relevant. For those who do not feel autonomy over their own bodies;listen or read along to me unpacking mine. Tell me yours if u feel called. It’s all love 💕

**Reposting bc of Censorship**
Such a powerful experience to be able to capture women embodying themselves fully. This is connected to a project coming out soon directed by: @charlieannmax and shot by: @jtngu
+++
Swipe for a journal reading for those who feel called to report this post. Written many moons ago yet still relevant. For those who do not feel autonomy over their own bodies;listen or read along to me unpacking mine. Tell me yours if u feel called. It’s all love 💕

**Reposting bc of Censorship**
Such a powerful experience to be able to capture women embodying themselves fully. This is connected to a project coming out soon directed by: @charlieannmax and shot by: @jtngu
+++
Swipe for a journal reading for those who feel called to report this post. Written many moons ago yet still relevant. For those who do not feel autonomy over their own bodies;listen or read along to me unpacking mine. Tell me yours if u feel called. It’s all love 💕

**Reposting bc of Censorship**
Such a powerful experience to be able to capture women embodying themselves fully. This is connected to a project coming out soon directed by: @charlieannmax and shot by: @jtngu
+++
Swipe for a journal reading for those who feel called to report this post. Written many moons ago yet still relevant. For those who do not feel autonomy over their own bodies;listen or read along to me unpacking mine. Tell me yours if u feel called. It’s all love 💕

**Reposting bc of Censorship**
Such a powerful experience to be able to capture women embodying themselves fully. This is connected to a project coming out soon directed by: @charlieannmax and shot by: @jtngu
+++
Swipe for a journal reading for those who feel called to report this post. Written many moons ago yet still relevant. For those who do not feel autonomy over their own bodies;listen or read along to me unpacking mine. Tell me yours if u feel called. It’s all love 💕

AMNIATA|| #120mm

ECHOES OF EACH OTHER// Somehow we always end up here. Right now feels like arpeggios. Steps and a cycle. A cry, a wail into infinity. That finds itself the longer it carries. The things that we return to and don’t even realize it till the credits roll. There’s love and there’s rivers and there’s openings that connect to each other even when we don’t know how. I can tell by the bewilderment in my own eyes, the feel of something that slips from my tongue. 🌀🪟🍃

Studies on Maya in 2025 :: 2023
Portal between Greece 2022::
And a friends house 2018

ECHOES OF EACH OTHER// Somehow we always end up here. Right now feels like arpeggios. Steps and a cycle. A cry, a wail into infinity. That finds itself the longer it carries. The things that we return to and don’t even realize it till the credits roll. There’s love and there’s rivers and there’s openings that connect to each other even when we don’t know how. I can tell by the bewilderment in my own eyes, the feel of something that slips from my tongue. 🌀🪟🍃

Studies on Maya in 2025 :: 2023
Portal between Greece 2022::
And a friends house 2018

ECHOES OF EACH OTHER// Somehow we always end up here. Right now feels like arpeggios. Steps and a cycle. A cry, a wail into infinity. That finds itself the longer it carries. The things that we return to and don’t even realize it till the credits roll. There’s love and there’s rivers and there’s openings that connect to each other even when we don’t know how. I can tell by the bewilderment in my own eyes, the feel of something that slips from my tongue. 🌀🪟🍃

Studies on Maya in 2025 :: 2023
Portal between Greece 2022::
And a friends house 2018

ECHOES OF EACH OTHER// Somehow we always end up here. Right now feels like arpeggios. Steps and a cycle. A cry, a wail into infinity. That finds itself the longer it carries. The things that we return to and don’t even realize it till the credits roll. There’s love and there’s rivers and there’s openings that connect to each other even when we don’t know how. I can tell by the bewilderment in my own eyes, the feel of something that slips from my tongue. 🌀🪟🍃

Studies on Maya in 2025 :: 2023
Portal between Greece 2022::
And a friends house 2018

TWERKSHOP MAY 2 w/ @disconnect.foundation . MEET YOUR INSTRUCTORS 💋 experts in the mixed martial arts of throwing ass . There will be live DJ , drum circle and the beach! ALL levels welcome . We will be going over the basics of twerking, whining and jiggling.

Tending to the fire, swimming in the dark. Sometimes you discover there is a siren inside of you ready to sing to men so beautifully so truly that they will follow you to the depths of the sea. Sometimes you realize there’s a nymph that’s just waiting to be free. One day you’ll notice the stars dance and everything in this world is tryingto woo you. The clouds dancing in perfect harmony constantly and always. The rocks, a mother, gentle and firm. This space between worlds is sacred and holy. The fire must be tended to, you must be willing to work. It’s always in service to the soft and wild. The fire must be tended to, it’s all in service to warmth. It is your passions and smile and freedom for which the whole world turns. 🧜🏾‍♀️🕯️
{Screenshots from an expiremental short film I’m editing from winter solstice::hot springs moment. Not sure if it’ll be possible to share on this platform bc of nüdití… pero I’ll find a way. Soaking in the liminal space that is between Christmas and new year. It’s been extra poignant. Very between worlds rn. Sending love from my cocoon ❤️‍🔥}

Tending to the fire, swimming in the dark. Sometimes you discover there is a siren inside of you ready to sing to men so beautifully so truly that they will follow you to the depths of the sea. Sometimes you realize there’s a nymph that’s just waiting to be free. One day you’ll notice the stars dance and everything in this world is tryingto woo you. The clouds dancing in perfect harmony constantly and always. The rocks, a mother, gentle and firm. This space between worlds is sacred and holy. The fire must be tended to, you must be willing to work. It’s always in service to the soft and wild. The fire must be tended to, it’s all in service to warmth. It is your passions and smile and freedom for which the whole world turns. 🧜🏾‍♀️🕯️
{Screenshots from an expiremental short film I’m editing from winter solstice::hot springs moment. Not sure if it’ll be possible to share on this platform bc of nüdití… pero I’ll find a way. Soaking in the liminal space that is between Christmas and new year. It’s been extra poignant. Very between worlds rn. Sending love from my cocoon ❤️‍🔥}

Tending to the fire, swimming in the dark. Sometimes you discover there is a siren inside of you ready to sing to men so beautifully so truly that they will follow you to the depths of the sea. Sometimes you realize there’s a nymph that’s just waiting to be free. One day you’ll notice the stars dance and everything in this world is tryingto woo you. The clouds dancing in perfect harmony constantly and always. The rocks, a mother, gentle and firm. This space between worlds is sacred and holy. The fire must be tended to, you must be willing to work. It’s always in service to the soft and wild. The fire must be tended to, it’s all in service to warmth. It is your passions and smile and freedom for which the whole world turns. 🧜🏾‍♀️🕯️
{Screenshots from an expiremental short film I’m editing from winter solstice::hot springs moment. Not sure if it’ll be possible to share on this platform bc of nüdití… pero I’ll find a way. Soaking in the liminal space that is between Christmas and new year. It’s been extra poignant. Very between worlds rn. Sending love from my cocoon ❤️‍🔥}

Tending to the fire, swimming in the dark. Sometimes you discover there is a siren inside of you ready to sing to men so beautifully so truly that they will follow you to the depths of the sea. Sometimes you realize there’s a nymph that’s just waiting to be free. One day you’ll notice the stars dance and everything in this world is tryingto woo you. The clouds dancing in perfect harmony constantly and always. The rocks, a mother, gentle and firm. This space between worlds is sacred and holy. The fire must be tended to, you must be willing to work. It’s always in service to the soft and wild. The fire must be tended to, it’s all in service to warmth. It is your passions and smile and freedom for which the whole world turns. 🧜🏾‍♀️🕯️
{Screenshots from an expiremental short film I’m editing from winter solstice::hot springs moment. Not sure if it’ll be possible to share on this platform bc of nüdití… pero I’ll find a way. Soaking in the liminal space that is between Christmas and new year. It’s been extra poignant. Very between worlds rn. Sending love from my cocoon ❤️‍🔥}

Tending to the fire, swimming in the dark. Sometimes you discover there is a siren inside of you ready to sing to men so beautifully so truly that they will follow you to the depths of the sea. Sometimes you realize there’s a nymph that’s just waiting to be free. One day you’ll notice the stars dance and everything in this world is tryingto woo you. The clouds dancing in perfect harmony constantly and always. The rocks, a mother, gentle and firm. This space between worlds is sacred and holy. The fire must be tended to, you must be willing to work. It’s always in service to the soft and wild. The fire must be tended to, it’s all in service to warmth. It is your passions and smile and freedom for which the whole world turns. 🧜🏾‍♀️🕯️
{Screenshots from an expiremental short film I’m editing from winter solstice::hot springs moment. Not sure if it’ll be possible to share on this platform bc of nüdití… pero I’ll find a way. Soaking in the liminal space that is between Christmas and new year. It’s been extra poignant. Very between worlds rn. Sending love from my cocoon ❤️‍🔥}

Tending to the fire, swimming in the dark. Sometimes you discover there is a siren inside of you ready to sing to men so beautifully so truly that they will follow you to the depths of the sea. Sometimes you realize there’s a nymph that’s just waiting to be free. One day you’ll notice the stars dance and everything in this world is tryingto woo you. The clouds dancing in perfect harmony constantly and always. The rocks, a mother, gentle and firm. This space between worlds is sacred and holy. The fire must be tended to, you must be willing to work. It’s always in service to the soft and wild. The fire must be tended to, it’s all in service to warmth. It is your passions and smile and freedom for which the whole world turns. 🧜🏾‍♀️🕯️
{Screenshots from an expiremental short film I’m editing from winter solstice::hot springs moment. Not sure if it’ll be possible to share on this platform bc of nüdití… pero I’ll find a way. Soaking in the liminal space that is between Christmas and new year. It’s been extra poignant. Very between worlds rn. Sending love from my cocoon ❤️‍🔥}

Tending to the fire, swimming in the dark. Sometimes you discover there is a siren inside of you ready to sing to men so beautifully so truly that they will follow you to the depths of the sea. Sometimes you realize there’s a nymph that’s just waiting to be free. One day you’ll notice the stars dance and everything in this world is tryingto woo you. The clouds dancing in perfect harmony constantly and always. The rocks, a mother, gentle and firm. This space between worlds is sacred and holy. The fire must be tended to, you must be willing to work. It’s always in service to the soft and wild. The fire must be tended to, it’s all in service to warmth. It is your passions and smile and freedom for which the whole world turns. 🧜🏾‍♀️🕯️
{Screenshots from an expiremental short film I’m editing from winter solstice::hot springs moment. Not sure if it’ll be possible to share on this platform bc of nüdití… pero I’ll find a way. Soaking in the liminal space that is between Christmas and new year. It’s been extra poignant. Very between worlds rn. Sending love from my cocoon ❤️‍🔥}

THE HIGH PRIESTESS:: “The high preistess signifies potential in our lives, very strong possibilities we have not yet realized though we can sense them as possible.” Been wondering into my own inner worlds. Seeing the magic and endless beauty there.This precious instinct to find and create more and more beauty. And the tide of mysteries I am yet to unravel . That by their very nature you will never get to the bottom of. I was inspired to turn one of my photos into an interpretation of the high priestess card. I invite you to fall in. To keep looking into this world as it transforms itself before your eyes. things revealed and lost and then found again. I had so much fun making this . This is an expression of my inner joy. The childlike exploration. My questions and answers. I am learning about the journey and putting one foot in front of the other . And how fun and scary and hard it is to just let yourself be on your own path, not waiting to get better or farther . But to truly smell the roses (and truth) of where you actually are . I like it here! This little imperfect silly , precious , beautiful , curious zone I’ve found in myself. This photo is a journey and also just a step.
#120mm #mixedmediaartwork

One of the dopest projects I’ve lensed with the incomparable @chas_todd .Is streaming on STARZ and Amazon prime! Making this changed me.

Created By: @coletdbrown
Director: @chas_todd Showrunner:
EPs: @jami_gertz, Drake, Jermaine Dupri Producer: @marloweblue @ashleybrookecs DPs: @trevorpmay @reagan_love @imaninikyah AC: @alleyrober@joel_chivington@meifyouwxntto
Post Producer: @danieldewes_
Post Production Supervisor: @rayklonsky
Editing: @dylancutsthings @evadubovoy, Matt Mitchener @wyattbearp @kool_cigs feenpizza @eric_barr @geneagaudet
AEs: Tara Pennington, @greyclawson @carlossprung @banjofugue Sam Wagstaff
Creative Producer: Trevor Kane @straighttotell
Original Score, Sound Design and Mix:
@lucasellman
Colorist: @carretero.color @kyalou
VFX Studio:@pbc.worldwide
VFX Supervisor: @medet.pbc
VFX Producer: @dimitrybocharov
VFX Artist: @aniports
Music Supervision: @loudspeakermusicgroup

One of the dopest projects I’ve lensed with the incomparable @chas_todd .Is streaming on STARZ and Amazon prime! Making this changed me.

Created By: @coletdbrown
Director: @chas_todd Showrunner:
EPs: @jami_gertz, Drake, Jermaine Dupri Producer: @marloweblue @ashleybrookecs DPs: @trevorpmay @reagan_love @imaninikyah AC: @alleyrober@joel_chivington@meifyouwxntto
Post Producer: @danieldewes_
Post Production Supervisor: @rayklonsky
Editing: @dylancutsthings @evadubovoy, Matt Mitchener @wyattbearp @kool_cigs feenpizza @eric_barr @geneagaudet
AEs: Tara Pennington, @greyclawson @carlossprung @banjofugue Sam Wagstaff
Creative Producer: Trevor Kane @straighttotell
Original Score, Sound Design and Mix:
@lucasellman
Colorist: @carretero.color @kyalou
VFX Studio:@pbc.worldwide
VFX Supervisor: @medet.pbc
VFX Producer: @dimitrybocharov
VFX Artist: @aniports
Music Supervision: @loudspeakermusicgroup

THE FIRST MOVEMENT OF SUMMER::
It’s starting to feel like summer so I opened up my archives again. Something fertile, ripe, alive is waking up in me in this heat. A reprieve from the darkness of winter, the sun shines again. The sun always shines again. Heat , movement, sweat. Even though it will always be forgotten. But this remembering is a sweet thing to cherish. Portals, sweat, nostalgia . So much is happening it is not possible to show all the deep ways I’m changing , growing , breaking open. Sometimes in these times it reminds me to look back at the seeds of potential that is always with me. That I see even more clearly ahead of me. Laughter, community, ease. Wandering has always led me back to myself. And I’ve been wandering for a while now. Something deep in me knows I am not lost just finding the way to go. I’m always exactly where I’m supposed to be. It takes courage to follow a path that is not paved. Intuition, trust, freedom. To go down roads filled with love but end in heartbreak. To experience infinity over and over again. When I look back on these pictures I am still there. Loving what will soon be lost , exploring what will never exist again, looking for what I know will always be there . The first movement of summer is called REMEMBERING.
1. Puerto viejo, Costa Rica otw to a restuarant with my family. We looked like the locals.
2.Bali, my view in backbends at yoga school
3. Bali , flower offerings that were renewed every day
4. Amsterdam, in the rose gardens
5. London , on the tube on the way back from baths after a fight with my sister
6. A portal in Amsterdam that I still think of all the time

THE FIRST MOVEMENT OF SUMMER::
It’s starting to feel like summer so I opened up my archives again. Something fertile, ripe, alive is waking up in me in this heat. A reprieve from the darkness of winter, the sun shines again. The sun always shines again. Heat , movement, sweat. Even though it will always be forgotten. But this remembering is a sweet thing to cherish. Portals, sweat, nostalgia . So much is happening it is not possible to show all the deep ways I’m changing , growing , breaking open. Sometimes in these times it reminds me to look back at the seeds of potential that is always with me. That I see even more clearly ahead of me. Laughter, community, ease. Wandering has always led me back to myself. And I’ve been wandering for a while now. Something deep in me knows I am not lost just finding the way to go. I’m always exactly where I’m supposed to be. It takes courage to follow a path that is not paved. Intuition, trust, freedom. To go down roads filled with love but end in heartbreak. To experience infinity over and over again. When I look back on these pictures I am still there. Loving what will soon be lost , exploring what will never exist again, looking for what I know will always be there . The first movement of summer is called REMEMBERING.
1. Puerto viejo, Costa Rica otw to a restuarant with my family. We looked like the locals.
2.Bali, my view in backbends at yoga school
3. Bali , flower offerings that were renewed every day
4. Amsterdam, in the rose gardens
5. London , on the tube on the way back from baths after a fight with my sister
6. A portal in Amsterdam that I still think of all the time

THE FIRST MOVEMENT OF SUMMER::
It’s starting to feel like summer so I opened up my archives again. Something fertile, ripe, alive is waking up in me in this heat. A reprieve from the darkness of winter, the sun shines again. The sun always shines again. Heat , movement, sweat. Even though it will always be forgotten. But this remembering is a sweet thing to cherish. Portals, sweat, nostalgia . So much is happening it is not possible to show all the deep ways I’m changing , growing , breaking open. Sometimes in these times it reminds me to look back at the seeds of potential that is always with me. That I see even more clearly ahead of me. Laughter, community, ease. Wandering has always led me back to myself. And I’ve been wandering for a while now. Something deep in me knows I am not lost just finding the way to go. I’m always exactly where I’m supposed to be. It takes courage to follow a path that is not paved. Intuition, trust, freedom. To go down roads filled with love but end in heartbreak. To experience infinity over and over again. When I look back on these pictures I am still there. Loving what will soon be lost , exploring what will never exist again, looking for what I know will always be there . The first movement of summer is called REMEMBERING.
1. Puerto viejo, Costa Rica otw to a restuarant with my family. We looked like the locals.
2.Bali, my view in backbends at yoga school
3. Bali , flower offerings that were renewed every day
4. Amsterdam, in the rose gardens
5. London , on the tube on the way back from baths after a fight with my sister
6. A portal in Amsterdam that I still think of all the time

THE FIRST MOVEMENT OF SUMMER::
It’s starting to feel like summer so I opened up my archives again. Something fertile, ripe, alive is waking up in me in this heat. A reprieve from the darkness of winter, the sun shines again. The sun always shines again. Heat , movement, sweat. Even though it will always be forgotten. But this remembering is a sweet thing to cherish. Portals, sweat, nostalgia . So much is happening it is not possible to show all the deep ways I’m changing , growing , breaking open. Sometimes in these times it reminds me to look back at the seeds of potential that is always with me. That I see even more clearly ahead of me. Laughter, community, ease. Wandering has always led me back to myself. And I’ve been wandering for a while now. Something deep in me knows I am not lost just finding the way to go. I’m always exactly where I’m supposed to be. It takes courage to follow a path that is not paved. Intuition, trust, freedom. To go down roads filled with love but end in heartbreak. To experience infinity over and over again. When I look back on these pictures I am still there. Loving what will soon be lost , exploring what will never exist again, looking for what I know will always be there . The first movement of summer is called REMEMBERING.
1. Puerto viejo, Costa Rica otw to a restuarant with my family. We looked like the locals.
2.Bali, my view in backbends at yoga school
3. Bali , flower offerings that were renewed every day
4. Amsterdam, in the rose gardens
5. London , on the tube on the way back from baths after a fight with my sister
6. A portal in Amsterdam that I still think of all the time

THE FIRST MOVEMENT OF SUMMER::
It’s starting to feel like summer so I opened up my archives again. Something fertile, ripe, alive is waking up in me in this heat. A reprieve from the darkness of winter, the sun shines again. The sun always shines again. Heat , movement, sweat. Even though it will always be forgotten. But this remembering is a sweet thing to cherish. Portals, sweat, nostalgia . So much is happening it is not possible to show all the deep ways I’m changing , growing , breaking open. Sometimes in these times it reminds me to look back at the seeds of potential that is always with me. That I see even more clearly ahead of me. Laughter, community, ease. Wandering has always led me back to myself. And I’ve been wandering for a while now. Something deep in me knows I am not lost just finding the way to go. I’m always exactly where I’m supposed to be. It takes courage to follow a path that is not paved. Intuition, trust, freedom. To go down roads filled with love but end in heartbreak. To experience infinity over and over again. When I look back on these pictures I am still there. Loving what will soon be lost , exploring what will never exist again, looking for what I know will always be there . The first movement of summer is called REMEMBERING.
1. Puerto viejo, Costa Rica otw to a restuarant with my family. We looked like the locals.
2.Bali, my view in backbends at yoga school
3. Bali , flower offerings that were renewed every day
4. Amsterdam, in the rose gardens
5. London , on the tube on the way back from baths after a fight with my sister
6. A portal in Amsterdam that I still think of all the time

THE FIRST MOVEMENT OF SUMMER::
It’s starting to feel like summer so I opened up my archives again. Something fertile, ripe, alive is waking up in me in this heat. A reprieve from the darkness of winter, the sun shines again. The sun always shines again. Heat , movement, sweat. Even though it will always be forgotten. But this remembering is a sweet thing to cherish. Portals, sweat, nostalgia . So much is happening it is not possible to show all the deep ways I’m changing , growing , breaking open. Sometimes in these times it reminds me to look back at the seeds of potential that is always with me. That I see even more clearly ahead of me. Laughter, community, ease. Wandering has always led me back to myself. And I’ve been wandering for a while now. Something deep in me knows I am not lost just finding the way to go. I’m always exactly where I’m supposed to be. It takes courage to follow a path that is not paved. Intuition, trust, freedom. To go down roads filled with love but end in heartbreak. To experience infinity over and over again. When I look back on these pictures I am still there. Loving what will soon be lost , exploring what will never exist again, looking for what I know will always be there . The first movement of summer is called REMEMBERING.
1. Puerto viejo, Costa Rica otw to a restuarant with my family. We looked like the locals.
2.Bali, my view in backbends at yoga school
3. Bali , flower offerings that were renewed every day
4. Amsterdam, in the rose gardens
5. London , on the tube on the way back from baths after a fight with my sister
6. A portal in Amsterdam that I still think of all the time

THE FIRST MOVEMENT OF SUMMER::
It’s starting to feel like summer so I opened up my archives again. Something fertile, ripe, alive is waking up in me in this heat. A reprieve from the darkness of winter, the sun shines again. The sun always shines again. Heat , movement, sweat. Even though it will always be forgotten. But this remembering is a sweet thing to cherish. Portals, sweat, nostalgia . So much is happening it is not possible to show all the deep ways I’m changing , growing , breaking open. Sometimes in these times it reminds me to look back at the seeds of potential that is always with me. That I see even more clearly ahead of me. Laughter, community, ease. Wandering has always led me back to myself. And I’ve been wandering for a while now. Something deep in me knows I am not lost just finding the way to go. I’m always exactly where I’m supposed to be. It takes courage to follow a path that is not paved. Intuition, trust, freedom. To go down roads filled with love but end in heartbreak. To experience infinity over and over again. When I look back on these pictures I am still there. Loving what will soon be lost , exploring what will never exist again, looking for what I know will always be there . The first movement of summer is called REMEMBERING.
1. Puerto viejo, Costa Rica otw to a restuarant with my family. We looked like the locals.
2.Bali, my view in backbends at yoga school
3. Bali , flower offerings that were renewed every day
4. Amsterdam, in the rose gardens
5. London , on the tube on the way back from baths after a fight with my sister
6. A portal in Amsterdam that I still think of all the time

THE FIRST MOVEMENT OF SUMMER::
It’s starting to feel like summer so I opened up my archives again. Something fertile, ripe, alive is waking up in me in this heat. A reprieve from the darkness of winter, the sun shines again. The sun always shines again. Heat , movement, sweat. Even though it will always be forgotten. But this remembering is a sweet thing to cherish. Portals, sweat, nostalgia . So much is happening it is not possible to show all the deep ways I’m changing , growing , breaking open. Sometimes in these times it reminds me to look back at the seeds of potential that is always with me. That I see even more clearly ahead of me. Laughter, community, ease. Wandering has always led me back to myself. And I’ve been wandering for a while now. Something deep in me knows I am not lost just finding the way to go. I’m always exactly where I’m supposed to be. It takes courage to follow a path that is not paved. Intuition, trust, freedom. To go down roads filled with love but end in heartbreak. To experience infinity over and over again. When I look back on these pictures I am still there. Loving what will soon be lost , exploring what will never exist again, looking for what I know will always be there . The first movement of summer is called REMEMBERING.
1. Puerto viejo, Costa Rica otw to a restuarant with my family. We looked like the locals.
2.Bali, my view in backbends at yoga school
3. Bali , flower offerings that were renewed every day
4. Amsterdam, in the rose gardens
5. London , on the tube on the way back from baths after a fight with my sister
6. A portal in Amsterdam that I still think of all the time

How can every death not be some kind of birth. Every birth the end of what you’ve known before.
I tried to post this so many times before but I always would end up crying or feeling like something was missing. This is the last roll of film I took when my granna was alive, it’s the same roll I shot at her funeral. It feels complete in that way a capsule between life in death. The truth of really not knowing when the last time you will hold someone. In my grief I can feel that our love was complete. I got to experience what a lot of people don’t. I got to see and be apart of someone’s cycle of life. She wiped my butt when I was a baby I got to wipe hers when she was old. Something so integral the way we need each other, something so true. She watered me and grew me up and I got the honor of returning all that love. We lived together from the time I was in middle school until i graduated, she packed my lunches and made dinner most of the time. So in a way she was like a second mom. We had our own secret jokes and would gossip about the rest of the family. Nothing can feel as deep and eternal as the love we share. After the funeral one of the few things I scrawled in my journal was “the ecstasy of grief” because in my grieving I felt the enormity of lovingness, of hope and of miracles. It felt good to touch its expanse. I was so grateful for my family for the roots I come from, from the grace I got to spend 2months with her before she transitioned. It still doesn’t always feel real. But she planted her love in me to keep carrying. Somehow it still doesn’t feel complete and there is always more to say.

How can every death not be some kind of birth. Every birth the end of what you’ve known before.
I tried to post this so many times before but I always would end up crying or feeling like something was missing. This is the last roll of film I took when my granna was alive, it’s the same roll I shot at her funeral. It feels complete in that way a capsule between life in death. The truth of really not knowing when the last time you will hold someone. In my grief I can feel that our love was complete. I got to experience what a lot of people don’t. I got to see and be apart of someone’s cycle of life. She wiped my butt when I was a baby I got to wipe hers when she was old. Something so integral the way we need each other, something so true. She watered me and grew me up and I got the honor of returning all that love. We lived together from the time I was in middle school until i graduated, she packed my lunches and made dinner most of the time. So in a way she was like a second mom. We had our own secret jokes and would gossip about the rest of the family. Nothing can feel as deep and eternal as the love we share. After the funeral one of the few things I scrawled in my journal was “the ecstasy of grief” because in my grieving I felt the enormity of lovingness, of hope and of miracles. It felt good to touch its expanse. I was so grateful for my family for the roots I come from, from the grace I got to spend 2months with her before she transitioned. It still doesn’t always feel real. But she planted her love in me to keep carrying. Somehow it still doesn’t feel complete and there is always more to say.

How can every death not be some kind of birth. Every birth the end of what you’ve known before.
I tried to post this so many times before but I always would end up crying or feeling like something was missing. This is the last roll of film I took when my granna was alive, it’s the same roll I shot at her funeral. It feels complete in that way a capsule between life in death. The truth of really not knowing when the last time you will hold someone. In my grief I can feel that our love was complete. I got to experience what a lot of people don’t. I got to see and be apart of someone’s cycle of life. She wiped my butt when I was a baby I got to wipe hers when she was old. Something so integral the way we need each other, something so true. She watered me and grew me up and I got the honor of returning all that love. We lived together from the time I was in middle school until i graduated, she packed my lunches and made dinner most of the time. So in a way she was like a second mom. We had our own secret jokes and would gossip about the rest of the family. Nothing can feel as deep and eternal as the love we share. After the funeral one of the few things I scrawled in my journal was “the ecstasy of grief” because in my grieving I felt the enormity of lovingness, of hope and of miracles. It felt good to touch its expanse. I was so grateful for my family for the roots I come from, from the grace I got to spend 2months with her before she transitioned. It still doesn’t always feel real. But she planted her love in me to keep carrying. Somehow it still doesn’t feel complete and there is always more to say.

How can every death not be some kind of birth. Every birth the end of what you’ve known before.
I tried to post this so many times before but I always would end up crying or feeling like something was missing. This is the last roll of film I took when my granna was alive, it’s the same roll I shot at her funeral. It feels complete in that way a capsule between life in death. The truth of really not knowing when the last time you will hold someone. In my grief I can feel that our love was complete. I got to experience what a lot of people don’t. I got to see and be apart of someone’s cycle of life. She wiped my butt when I was a baby I got to wipe hers when she was old. Something so integral the way we need each other, something so true. She watered me and grew me up and I got the honor of returning all that love. We lived together from the time I was in middle school until i graduated, she packed my lunches and made dinner most of the time. So in a way she was like a second mom. We had our own secret jokes and would gossip about the rest of the family. Nothing can feel as deep and eternal as the love we share. After the funeral one of the few things I scrawled in my journal was “the ecstasy of grief” because in my grieving I felt the enormity of lovingness, of hope and of miracles. It felt good to touch its expanse. I was so grateful for my family for the roots I come from, from the grace I got to spend 2months with her before she transitioned. It still doesn’t always feel real. But she planted her love in me to keep carrying. Somehow it still doesn’t feel complete and there is always more to say.

How can every death not be some kind of birth. Every birth the end of what you’ve known before.
I tried to post this so many times before but I always would end up crying or feeling like something was missing. This is the last roll of film I took when my granna was alive, it’s the same roll I shot at her funeral. It feels complete in that way a capsule between life in death. The truth of really not knowing when the last time you will hold someone. In my grief I can feel that our love was complete. I got to experience what a lot of people don’t. I got to see and be apart of someone’s cycle of life. She wiped my butt when I was a baby I got to wipe hers when she was old. Something so integral the way we need each other, something so true. She watered me and grew me up and I got the honor of returning all that love. We lived together from the time I was in middle school until i graduated, she packed my lunches and made dinner most of the time. So in a way she was like a second mom. We had our own secret jokes and would gossip about the rest of the family. Nothing can feel as deep and eternal as the love we share. After the funeral one of the few things I scrawled in my journal was “the ecstasy of grief” because in my grieving I felt the enormity of lovingness, of hope and of miracles. It felt good to touch its expanse. I was so grateful for my family for the roots I come from, from the grace I got to spend 2months with her before she transitioned. It still doesn’t always feel real. But she planted her love in me to keep carrying. Somehow it still doesn’t feel complete and there is always more to say.

How can every death not be some kind of birth. Every birth the end of what you’ve known before.
I tried to post this so many times before but I always would end up crying or feeling like something was missing. This is the last roll of film I took when my granna was alive, it’s the same roll I shot at her funeral. It feels complete in that way a capsule between life in death. The truth of really not knowing when the last time you will hold someone. In my grief I can feel that our love was complete. I got to experience what a lot of people don’t. I got to see and be apart of someone’s cycle of life. She wiped my butt when I was a baby I got to wipe hers when she was old. Something so integral the way we need each other, something so true. She watered me and grew me up and I got the honor of returning all that love. We lived together from the time I was in middle school until i graduated, she packed my lunches and made dinner most of the time. So in a way she was like a second mom. We had our own secret jokes and would gossip about the rest of the family. Nothing can feel as deep and eternal as the love we share. After the funeral one of the few things I scrawled in my journal was “the ecstasy of grief” because in my grieving I felt the enormity of lovingness, of hope and of miracles. It felt good to touch its expanse. I was so grateful for my family for the roots I come from, from the grace I got to spend 2months with her before she transitioned. It still doesn’t always feel real. But she planted her love in me to keep carrying. Somehow it still doesn’t feel complete and there is always more to say.

How can every death not be some kind of birth. Every birth the end of what you’ve known before.
I tried to post this so many times before but I always would end up crying or feeling like something was missing. This is the last roll of film I took when my granna was alive, it’s the same roll I shot at her funeral. It feels complete in that way a capsule between life in death. The truth of really not knowing when the last time you will hold someone. In my grief I can feel that our love was complete. I got to experience what a lot of people don’t. I got to see and be apart of someone’s cycle of life. She wiped my butt when I was a baby I got to wipe hers when she was old. Something so integral the way we need each other, something so true. She watered me and grew me up and I got the honor of returning all that love. We lived together from the time I was in middle school until i graduated, she packed my lunches and made dinner most of the time. So in a way she was like a second mom. We had our own secret jokes and would gossip about the rest of the family. Nothing can feel as deep and eternal as the love we share. After the funeral one of the few things I scrawled in my journal was “the ecstasy of grief” because in my grieving I felt the enormity of lovingness, of hope and of miracles. It felt good to touch its expanse. I was so grateful for my family for the roots I come from, from the grace I got to spend 2months with her before she transitioned. It still doesn’t always feel real. But she planted her love in me to keep carrying. Somehow it still doesn’t feel complete and there is always more to say.

How can every death not be some kind of birth. Every birth the end of what you’ve known before.
I tried to post this so many times before but I always would end up crying or feeling like something was missing. This is the last roll of film I took when my granna was alive, it’s the same roll I shot at her funeral. It feels complete in that way a capsule between life in death. The truth of really not knowing when the last time you will hold someone. In my grief I can feel that our love was complete. I got to experience what a lot of people don’t. I got to see and be apart of someone’s cycle of life. She wiped my butt when I was a baby I got to wipe hers when she was old. Something so integral the way we need each other, something so true. She watered me and grew me up and I got the honor of returning all that love. We lived together from the time I was in middle school until i graduated, she packed my lunches and made dinner most of the time. So in a way she was like a second mom. We had our own secret jokes and would gossip about the rest of the family. Nothing can feel as deep and eternal as the love we share. After the funeral one of the few things I scrawled in my journal was “the ecstasy of grief” because in my grieving I felt the enormity of lovingness, of hope and of miracles. It felt good to touch its expanse. I was so grateful for my family for the roots I come from, from the grace I got to spend 2months with her before she transitioned. It still doesn’t always feel real. But she planted her love in me to keep carrying. Somehow it still doesn’t feel complete and there is always more to say.

How can every death not be some kind of birth. Every birth the end of what you’ve known before.
I tried to post this so many times before but I always would end up crying or feeling like something was missing. This is the last roll of film I took when my granna was alive, it’s the same roll I shot at her funeral. It feels complete in that way a capsule between life in death. The truth of really not knowing when the last time you will hold someone. In my grief I can feel that our love was complete. I got to experience what a lot of people don’t. I got to see and be apart of someone’s cycle of life. She wiped my butt when I was a baby I got to wipe hers when she was old. Something so integral the way we need each other, something so true. She watered me and grew me up and I got the honor of returning all that love. We lived together from the time I was in middle school until i graduated, she packed my lunches and made dinner most of the time. So in a way she was like a second mom. We had our own secret jokes and would gossip about the rest of the family. Nothing can feel as deep and eternal as the love we share. After the funeral one of the few things I scrawled in my journal was “the ecstasy of grief” because in my grieving I felt the enormity of lovingness, of hope and of miracles. It felt good to touch its expanse. I was so grateful for my family for the roots I come from, from the grace I got to spend 2months with her before she transitioned. It still doesn’t always feel real. But she planted her love in me to keep carrying. Somehow it still doesn’t feel complete and there is always more to say.

How can every death not be some kind of birth. Every birth the end of what you’ve known before.
I tried to post this so many times before but I always would end up crying or feeling like something was missing. This is the last roll of film I took when my granna was alive, it’s the same roll I shot at her funeral. It feels complete in that way a capsule between life in death. The truth of really not knowing when the last time you will hold someone. In my grief I can feel that our love was complete. I got to experience what a lot of people don’t. I got to see and be apart of someone’s cycle of life. She wiped my butt when I was a baby I got to wipe hers when she was old. Something so integral the way we need each other, something so true. She watered me and grew me up and I got the honor of returning all that love. We lived together from the time I was in middle school until i graduated, she packed my lunches and made dinner most of the time. So in a way she was like a second mom. We had our own secret jokes and would gossip about the rest of the family. Nothing can feel as deep and eternal as the love we share. After the funeral one of the few things I scrawled in my journal was “the ecstasy of grief” because in my grieving I felt the enormity of lovingness, of hope and of miracles. It felt good to touch its expanse. I was so grateful for my family for the roots I come from, from the grace I got to spend 2months with her before she transitioned. It still doesn’t always feel real. But she planted her love in me to keep carrying. Somehow it still doesn’t feel complete and there is always more to say.

Come flow with us this Sunday 3/30 🪷 class taught by @reagan_love .
Class theme is : GRIEF AS A TRANSITION::As winter gives way to spring, we celebrate the arrival of new growth — tender leaves, longer days, and the warmth of the sun. Yet, with each new beginning, there is often a quiet goodbye. In this all-levels yoga class, we will explore grief as a doorway — a path to deeper love, more pleasure, and greater connection. You don’t need to be actively grieving to hold space for it. Grief, when acknowledged, can become a tender teacher. By making small openings, we allow our grief to breathe, to move, to become more manageable.
Come as you are. Let your breath guide you through the bittersweet beauty of transition. 🌬️🫀

Come flow with us this Sunday 3/30 🪷 class taught by @reagan_love .
Class theme is : GRIEF AS A TRANSITION::As winter gives way to spring, we celebrate the arrival of new growth — tender leaves, longer days, and the warmth of the sun. Yet, with each new beginning, there is often a quiet goodbye. In this all-levels yoga class, we will explore grief as a doorway — a path to deeper love, more pleasure, and greater connection. You don’t need to be actively grieving to hold space for it. Grief, when acknowledged, can become a tender teacher. By making small openings, we allow our grief to breathe, to move, to become more manageable.
Come as you are. Let your breath guide you through the bittersweet beauty of transition. 🌬️🫀

Come flow with us this Sunday 3/30 🪷 class taught by @reagan_love .
Class theme is : GRIEF AS A TRANSITION::As winter gives way to spring, we celebrate the arrival of new growth — tender leaves, longer days, and the warmth of the sun. Yet, with each new beginning, there is often a quiet goodbye. In this all-levels yoga class, we will explore grief as a doorway — a path to deeper love, more pleasure, and greater connection. You don’t need to be actively grieving to hold space for it. Grief, when acknowledged, can become a tender teacher. By making small openings, we allow our grief to breathe, to move, to become more manageable.
Come as you are. Let your breath guide you through the bittersweet beauty of transition. 🌬️🫀

Come flow with us this Sunday 3/30 🪷 class taught by @reagan_love .
Class theme is : GRIEF AS A TRANSITION::As winter gives way to spring, we celebrate the arrival of new growth — tender leaves, longer days, and the warmth of the sun. Yet, with each new beginning, there is often a quiet goodbye. In this all-levels yoga class, we will explore grief as a doorway — a path to deeper love, more pleasure, and greater connection. You don’t need to be actively grieving to hold space for it. Grief, when acknowledged, can become a tender teacher. By making small openings, we allow our grief to breathe, to move, to become more manageable.
Come as you are. Let your breath guide you through the bittersweet beauty of transition. 🌬️🫀

Come flow with us this Sunday 3/30 🪷 class taught by @reagan_love .
Class theme is : GRIEF AS A TRANSITION::As winter gives way to spring, we celebrate the arrival of new growth — tender leaves, longer days, and the warmth of the sun. Yet, with each new beginning, there is often a quiet goodbye. In this all-levels yoga class, we will explore grief as a doorway — a path to deeper love, more pleasure, and greater connection. You don’t need to be actively grieving to hold space for it. Grief, when acknowledged, can become a tender teacher. By making small openings, we allow our grief to breathe, to move, to become more manageable.
Come as you are. Let your breath guide you through the bittersweet beauty of transition. 🌬️🫀

Come flow with us this Sunday 3/30 🪷 class taught by @reagan_love .
Class theme is : GRIEF AS A TRANSITION::As winter gives way to spring, we celebrate the arrival of new growth — tender leaves, longer days, and the warmth of the sun. Yet, with each new beginning, there is often a quiet goodbye. In this all-levels yoga class, we will explore grief as a doorway — a path to deeper love, more pleasure, and greater connection. You don’t need to be actively grieving to hold space for it. Grief, when acknowledged, can become a tender teacher. By making small openings, we allow our grief to breathe, to move, to become more manageable.
Come as you are. Let your breath guide you through the bittersweet beauty of transition. 🌬️🫀

Come flow with us this Sunday 3/30 🪷 class taught by @reagan_love .
Class theme is : GRIEF AS A TRANSITION::As winter gives way to spring, we celebrate the arrival of new growth — tender leaves, longer days, and the warmth of the sun. Yet, with each new beginning, there is often a quiet goodbye. In this all-levels yoga class, we will explore grief as a doorway — a path to deeper love, more pleasure, and greater connection. You don’t need to be actively grieving to hold space for it. Grief, when acknowledged, can become a tender teacher. By making small openings, we allow our grief to breathe, to move, to become more manageable.
Come as you are. Let your breath guide you through the bittersweet beauty of transition. 🌬️🫀

Come flow with us this Sunday 3/30 🪷 class taught by @reagan_love .
Class theme is : GRIEF AS A TRANSITION::As winter gives way to spring, we celebrate the arrival of new growth — tender leaves, longer days, and the warmth of the sun. Yet, with each new beginning, there is often a quiet goodbye. In this all-levels yoga class, we will explore grief as a doorway — a path to deeper love, more pleasure, and greater connection. You don’t need to be actively grieving to hold space for it. Grief, when acknowledged, can become a tender teacher. By making small openings, we allow our grief to breathe, to move, to become more manageable.
Come as you are. Let your breath guide you through the bittersweet beauty of transition. 🌬️🫀

Come flow with us this Sunday 3/30 🪷 class taught by @reagan_love .
Class theme is : GRIEF AS A TRANSITION::As winter gives way to spring, we celebrate the arrival of new growth — tender leaves, longer days, and the warmth of the sun. Yet, with each new beginning, there is often a quiet goodbye. In this all-levels yoga class, we will explore grief as a doorway — a path to deeper love, more pleasure, and greater connection. You don’t need to be actively grieving to hold space for it. Grief, when acknowledged, can become a tender teacher. By making small openings, we allow our grief to breathe, to move, to become more manageable.
Come as you are. Let your breath guide you through the bittersweet beauty of transition. 🌬️🫀

YOGA IN THE PARK w/ Hannah and Reagan ||| This project has been such a dream come true and expansion of self. Community, Consciousness and Movement. To be in service to communities that constantly have served me. To bring more spaciousness in our bodies and our capacity. Such a privilege to be able to flow with yall. 💋