YOU pick up the pencil. You write the first word.
Hope in this script is not grandiose; it is scrappy and immediate. It hides in the mundane: the perfect fold of a napkin, the way dawn hits the bricks just so, the exact moment a joke lands and the room erupts. Hope looks like careful planning—a list of small goals stitched across the inside of a shirt: learn calligraphy, finish the story you started, plant a seed in a crack of concrete if you can. It is practical, stubborn, and deeply human.
As I reflected on my life, I realized that I had been carrying around a lot of anger and resentment. I had been holding onto these emotions for years, and they were weighing me down. I realized that I needed to forgive myself, others, and the circumstances that had led me to this place.
: Whether it’s cigarettes, books, or cell phones, how things move inside reveals who holds the real power.
