What does it feel like to finally hold something you’ve carried inside for so long?
I’m standing here with Roots in my hands f I n a l l y , and it almost feels quiet. Like the moment right after a wave has broken. All the movement is still there, but something has landed.
These are the first test prints. Not perfect, not final. But real. I can feel the paper, see how the colors breathe in daylight, how they shift depending on where I stand. It’s different from a screen. Slower. More honest somehow.
I’ve spent so much time inside this process. Adjusting. Doubting. Coming back again. Letting it rest. Picking it up with new eyes. And now, suddenly, it exists outside of me.
I lay them out on the floor to see them together. I sit down. Just looking. Letting my body decide before my mind interrupts. What feels grounded. What feels like it holds.
There’s something about seeing them in a space. On a wall. In light that moves through the day. They start to become what they are meant to be. Not just images, but small anchors. Something you return to. Something that meets you where you are.
I’m working intensely now. Long days. Details
that need to fall into place. Things you don’t see,
but that you will feel.
It’s close.
And I can feel a kind of calm underneath it all.
Not because everything is done, but because know I’m on my way.
Roots is almost ready.
Marita
