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Dearest Self,

When The Rise is finished your mind will be released from its spell, you might even loose that slightly vacant day-dreaming look. A fantastical journey explored through wide-eyes, with terror and awe combined. It starts with a trickling thought that tumbles from the mountain stream. It wriggles then weaves between stones. It carves through stone and collects the scent of pine, then mint, then lavender. It drops through the valley in a sweeping curve before it meets the tide and endless ocean. Words crash on doubtful shores and leave with a whisper and the hiss of cascading stones; they leave the doubt shaken and a little bit changed. Until finally, breathless, She finds her landscape at peace. There’s even beauty in the murky patch of tangled weeds, floating out of reach.

I can’t force anyone to know themselves, but I can demonstrate that there’s nothing in the world so powerful.

The hours perched, scrolling through articles and poised, ready to write, were poured into text and the manuscript released into the world. The guilt that comes from staring at an empty page, or scrawling a thousand words and forgetting to cook, is fading fast.

I am ready for the next adventure, the next challenge, and exploration of a different mind.

It’s a book that wouldn’t exist without coffee, a pair of impatient cats and a patient family, but mostly coffee. There will be no more turkey dinosaurs for dinner.

With love,

Me (Fiona J)