I saw this beautiful cicada, still soft having just left its previous outer shell, and it reminded me of myself. This being was waiting, vulnerable, new…
The wings were gently flapping with the breeze—not stiff enough to fly, yet. And I looked on, admiring this precious kind of nakedness.
As I am being true to my own process, and continuing to blog myself even into a state of vulnerable newness, I hope you will visit and enjoy:
Queering My Sexuality.