I am six years old. I know I am a writer and an artist. I know I am a creator. I translate the world into image and word. It makes me happy, gives me joy. I am in love with writing, drawing, the world, me.
I don’t choose it. I just do it. I look at the beauty of the world. I feel it. I write it. I draw it. Whatever comes to me goes onto the paper.
This is play. Easy, fun, exciting. New all the time.
I know who I am, my true heart.
Fifty years later. Here. Now. Who am I?
I am Cat, recreating herself in her true image.
I am moving back in, this place, this heart, true to myself. True to the six year old who knew without doubt.
Draw. Write. Play. Love.