As a girl, my dream “job” was something akin to a superhero or guardian angel. Pre-requisites for fantastical dream of mine included wings, for flight and aesthetics, and the ability to know every form of communication, living or dead, known or unknown. I wanted to understand the secrets of man and beast alike. Imagine if walls could talk or the sands of the Sahara had stories to share.
My brain dreamt of the hidden stories of lost cultures and of mysteries in nature, not-yet-discovered by man. Over time, this desire grew into one of advocacy for truth and the oppressed. I wanted the poachers and tree cutters to know the pain and anguish they brought upon the world’s flora and fauna. I wanted to arbitrate peace between people who just “miscommunicated” with one another–before my mind considered deceit or manipulation). I figured everyone just needed someone to help them uncover the truth, and I was supposed to be that person.
All I know is, the truth has always had a special place in my life. Not only do I wish to uncover it for myself, but for others and how their inner workings fit together. I want people to see the flaws in memory, especially the ones we star in for our individual mental picture shows. I hope that they understand themselves as a present composition of the truths they see about themselves.