My life has always entailed a divine balance, it never sways one way or the other. For what reason I have been bestowed this blessing only you know. This past month of ਫੱਗਣ I was able to spend in the land of my mother and what lays in it’s wake is still unknown, nonetheless I implore.

Set with the intention of furthering my understanding of what I stem from, the question that arose was, who will I meet today? Upon arrival I was greeted with a familiar sense of violence, for centuries my blood has both flown and shed through these lands. A morning sun like no other, a dense coat of fog fills my lungs; I exist.

Punjab has itched at me like a scab, knowing well that what was once built exists to an extent damned by nostalgia. The world is ever changing, it must mend before it breaks, but there is also a world in which I win; a world clean. This sentiment was amplified with each passing day—an identity built on submission: “You may be less powerful than the whole world, but you are always more powerful than yourself.” —Gillian Rose