A chronicle of a woman suspended between worlds: without solid ground, yet still blooming.
This has been my life—a perpetual dance between what is and what I long for, between the dreams that cradle me at night and the falls that wake me without warning. I’ve inhabited many realities, but few certainties.
Home.
That word, heavy with promise, feels foreign to my lips—as if it belonged to someone else’s language.
Is it here, where I breathe?
Or there, where my name was first spoken?
They say home is where we come from, yet in my case, I don’t even know where I’m headed.
My roots are whimsical, like those of an orchid suspended in air—surviving on nothing but the moisture of sorrowful days. I never truly settle anywhere.
I live in constant metamorphosis, an unending search—even when I’m not certain what it is I seek. Perhaps an answer. Perhaps an embrace. Or maybe just a place where I can finally stop wandering.
In this cycle without beginning or end—as if my soul had struck a pact with eternity—I chose solitude as both refuge and path.
Not the sad kind, but the kind one seeks with longing,
like returning to the womb of oneself to hear what the world has silenced.
I made a home in introspection, in observing every fracture within me,
in the emotional archaeology that unearths truths buried under years and masks.
I became my own experiment—fertile ground for questions, an alchemist of emotion.
What formula could bring peace to this restless soul?
What secret incantation could open the gates to growth beyond human understanding?
I’ve searched for answers among stars and scars, in sacred books and feverish dreams,
in bodies that once embraced me and in absences that tore me apart.
Because I don’t seek healing just for myself.
What I long for is a quantum leap—an eruption of consciousness that allows me, from the deepest core of my truth, to reach out to those still walking with wounded souls.
I dream that my healing might become a bridge—
a spark in the collective darkness,
a lantern burning through the storm—
guiding us, one day,
toward the long-awaited light.
Nel Duarte
July 2nd, 2025 Calgary, AB—AHS 8:00am
✨ Thank you for reading and walking with me through these wandering roots. Writing about being rooted in the air is my way of searching for home, and your presence here reminds me that none of us walks this path of belonging alone.– Nel
Read more about wandering and belonging → link to In the Homeland of Dreams or A Lost Flight,