terroir (n.) 1. the characteristics of the environment in which a food or wine is produced, including regional and local climate, soil, and topography.
2. the flavor imparted to a food or wine by such characteristics
but are we not the same? are we not also products of our soil and the air we breathe, our regions and our cultures? are we not created by those around us, by friends and families and teachers and acquaintances and everyone we've ever connected with? are we not also seasoned by actions and experiences and sensory details and feelings, emotions?
aren't we all mirrors reflecting everything we take in back out into the world?
she was surprised to find that sometimes home can look like a mother with eyes like the mediterranean and a smile soaked in honey
a feeling found in twisted hair, as soft as moss and bitter as black coffee, written in tongues foreign yet familiar, in dust that tickles your nose and in laughter that shakes you to the core
sometimes home is a fleeting sense of recognition, of familiarity found in the corners of a smile or the edges of softening eye contact- that moment of "our souls have known each other since the beginning of time and i would recognize you anywhere," perhaps you truly see me
YWP is a diary that will always listen, will hear my screaming and my frustration, my confusion and my introspection.
A mask I can hide behind when I just need to disappear, where nobody has to know the backstory, who I really am, they're willing to listen anyways. I guess it isn't a mask- it's the place where I can show my face
YWP is a place where nobody needs context to find meaning. Nobody needs to know what I was thinking or where I'm coming from to find some form of connection, of solidarity, of community.