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“How do you know? How do you know when you are done? I wish I could be a cookie. Or spoon full of cookie dough rather. I wish there was a certain amount of time allotted to me being done, being ready. I don’t know when I will be completed. Maybe I will never be completed.
I have been on tour, in Europe, which is vastly different than being on tour in the US. The buildings have soul and the streets feel so old. Who stood on the same corner as I? Breaths away from Anne Frank’s house. What lives lost? What beauty has grown and died hundreds of times even before her? Being here pulls my body apart. It makes my heart hurt. I think about how small I am. And how incomplete. And it makes me uncontrollably sad. But, it is a sad that I am thankful to feel. It is a realization of myself and my place in this mess of beauty.
And maybe, it is ok if we are never complete. Maybe our completeness comes in the incomplete.
”
Ingrid Michaelson, 3 May 2009 (via annaflaherty)
annaflaherty Reason #7875875875 why I love Ingrid.