Stories heal

I love stories, have always loved them.

Transient by their nature, storytelling began as most things do, as an oral tradition. Its form and shape altering as the story moved through the bones, the body merely a conduit for what sought to be known.

Stories can never be claimed, they are universal and eternal, born from cosmic dust.

But we chain those stories in words, in sentences, in the very body itself. Cover them with culture, rules, shame, guilt and falsehoods.

But what if stories could breathe again, what if the story you’d been sold could be retrieved from the psyche, reclaimed by the body, and reimagined by the very soul itself.