Still have Joan Didion’s words thrumming through my body and brain, a whole day later, in the form of questions I have arrived at and asked myself many, many times before.
What happens to the people we used to be, past versions of ourselves, as we gently tend to growing some parts, letting others go?
Sometimes I’ve had answers. Sometimes I’ve only felt like I have come close to having some semblance of an answer, letting myself kiss the edges of knowing, but settling fully into the un-knowing. Dipping myself into the masochistic discomfort of it.
But, most times the answer has been a statement — I wonder.
Or some variation of it.