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I was shaped where land and water continually renegotiate their bond—in the breathing margins of the estuary, where mud, reed, sky, and tide meet and part without apology.
If I have a story, it is written in water, paper, and shoreline—in marks that bloom, run, and settle. It is the story of learning when to hold and when to let go, of finding form through vulnerability, of discovering that what returns is never the person who left—but someone shaped by tide, time, and the steady work of becoming well.