There is a photograph of me setting up a booth filled with books I created. I remember that version of me. She was building something she believed in. She had plans for where it might go. Ideas about what came next. Things she wanted badly enough to spend her time, energy and creativity making them real. She wasn’t pretending. She really wanted that life. And then, eventually, I didn’t. I think one of the strangest things about changing is looking back at something you once wanted desperately and realizing that you no longer want it in quite the same way. For a long time, that unsettled me. Because if I could change my mind about something that had once mattered so much, what did that say about all the choices I had made before? Had I been wrong? Had I wasted my time? Had that earlier version of me simply not known herself well enough? After that particular chapter of my work ended, I went through a period filled with realizations and questions I hadn’t expected to have. Not beca...
Magazine x Diary x Atelier