Tell us about a time when you felt out of place.
A time I felt out of place, you ask?
A question with a shorter answer could be: when don’t I feel out of place?
I wonder if other creatives feel this way. Like we don’t fully belong to this world. Like our souls are tethered to a different one, one brimming with magic and chaos.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I’m a changeling. A faerie with a spirit woven from precious jewels, raised among humans.
Born of a place where stars and flowers are distant cousins, and the fabric of night glimmers in the bones of trees.
My soul dreams its way back to that place every day.
Humans tell me that there’s nothing fascinating about drifting clouds, or that it’s silly to weave poetry from fallen leaves. Yet, this world never ceases to fill me with wonder. Perhaps I come from a world where wonder is part of the staple diet.
Maybe one day I’ll stumble upon a ring of mushrooms and find my way home.
