When I say that I've changed over the last year, it is true but not accurate. At least, it doesn't feel like change, so much as it feels like I've dropped my leaves, lengthened my roots, and dug in deep. Winter's coming. All summer was good growing time, and I gave myself a good pruning. Things have dropped away, but when I look closely I see that they weren't really mine; weren't really me. As Nina
puts it, the pencil lines on paper beneath the paint. I almost wrote pain
- that's true too.