I am a broken fuck.
Those words just penetrated my presence.
They sound harsh, I know.
But it feels like a beautiful hurdle.
Acknowledging my brokenness.
Making space for it.
Clearing my schedule for convalescence.
It is a long path.
But I know it starts here.
With patience. With honesty.
To be both loving parent and wounded child.
What a paradoxical purpose I’ve been given!
Photographer: Bing Wright