A closed window book.
A pursed lip with stern condescension.
It's Parisian smokey black & white mornings with cold damp war wounds and nearly silent rain.
It's a most sad song that catches in your throat.
The unselfish death of a dreamed life somewhere far away in your own back yard.
This... sanity.
This question.
This naked form not quite 17 and still apologizing for being someone's unrequited dreamscape.
A long walk still not taken.
A joke still untold.
An unchewed gum of a thing.
A masterpiece not started, and I just realized what I'm describing.
Hi I'm Tiffany Vakilian and this is Transformative Language Arts in Practice. I am enthralled by TLA and the way it affects my life. I write, I sing, I praise, I create, etc. I am an artist and a womanist, well read and a little nutty because of it. I support artists on their journey to and celebration of wholeness-- be it mental, physical, social, financial or - most importantly - spiritual. These are my findings as I search for truth and freedom via word.
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