To remind myself that no matter my location, there will always be constants, I look for shapes. My identity is a thousand different puzzle pieces searching for their place–for the fit that’s not forced and the image that slowly forms. I’m a fractured reflection of ideas and conversations and moments and environments and most of all, people. I travel with my jumbled up puzzle pieces and when I’m too tired to keep on shifting and rearranging and mixing them around, I look for shapes already whole, for puzzles already framed. So in Spain I search for lines and in Morocco I find circles and in Portugal I see squares.
When I visited the Royal Palace in Madrid, I reminded myself: a palace is just a million splotches of color tessellating across a frame—it doesn’t have to be a building if I don’t want it to be.