Written by Isla Franchesca
Cover art by Shachi Shah
two years since her fourth article was published, franchesca reflects on the after
laced in adaptation, versions of who i have been linger from frame to frame. i see greyscale
seasons, and catch sight of how raw and vivid life is for the girl in the pictures. i know her
sorrows; i hear her cries; but i feel her unwavering courage. i see her partake in the truly
illuminating experience of what it means to be alive; and i watch her study, relentlessly, the
subject she now knows most intimately – herself.
the girl in the pictures grew; she became a woman. you can find her deep in a melody, across
glistening skies that never feel far. she lives in a light blue painted home, and her land flows with
milk and honey. although she is still, occasionally, met with trial, her life is no longer measured by
it. she lets the wind, in all its mystery, come and go as it pleases; and immerses herself in willing
the good of others. context is always deserved, and persecution does not exist because we have
already been through enough. it is the winter solstice everyday, and there is nothing left to fear.
her love, as countless as the stars, has no end – and that is her freedom.
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