The point of departure is so often a severance. The breaking of ties, a rejection of all that is past.
The stillness of old spaces. Ancient burial grounds, awaiting resurrection; the spirits that burst forth in seething, vital turmoil.
At the borders of origin, can we deny that what we are, owes its place, to what was?
Can we enter the foggy ground of what we were, without destroying what we are?
Can we ever truly return?
