Print by Mati Rose
i’m hungry for baking in slow motion and warm cookies dipped in whole milk.
i’m craving silliness and surrender, the kind that happens with friends when the world has worn us down and we play.
i deeply hunger to feel vital. to feel breathed. to feel anchored in this body. able to receive. pleasured in giving.
i hunger for moments of expansion. becoming an aunt. teaching in a foreign country. loving betterbigger.
i’m voracious for ease. soft bellies. fresh air wandering. the piercing silence of sabbath.
hair chopped short. perhaps. soon.
circle upon circle upon circle upon circle of women. well. fed. women.
this year. this new year. i am hungry to rise. i am hungry for more slurp-worthy noodles.
this year. i am hungry, like so often, for more, red. hot. lips.
i’m hungry for adele to offer fresh sounds. for beautiful collaborations with kindred powerhouses. for blessings on every check written and every dollar received.
i’m mad with hunger for all women to be free from violence.
i’m hungry for crispy roast chicken thighs. for breakfast porridge parties. for the continued releasing of shoulds and for the feast of wants.