I’m living in one place, and dreaming another into being. The walls around me are familiar— marked by years of memory and rhythm. And yet, there’s a quiet pulse of something new gathering shape just beyond them. I’m in the in-between. The old isn’t quite over. The new isn’t quite ready. And I’m learning how to move here— to dance in the shifting space between. Some days feel like flow— a gentle unfolding, a sense of knowing my place in the steps. Other days, the rhythm breaks
