When you’re about to move to a new place, there is a somewhat gradual but inevitable sort of disentanglement that takes place, especially in the months leading up to D-Day. I can’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but it was both consciously and unconsciously happening–and by the time I was aware of it, I was already halfway out at sea, too far out to turn back.

It might have started with freelance projects I had to turn down, or looking at my calendar and realising that I would have to RSVP regrets to two friends’ weddings, or when I stopped being so liberal with the use of my good foundation with SPF because I was mentally earmarking it for travel. It was a lot of weird little things like that. And then one day last week I was on a farewell tour of some of my favourite food haunts when it started to really hit me that I only had 5 (five!) weekends left before leaving.


Sometimes it pains me to think of what I would be leaving behind–family, friends, familiarity–and it’s also a sad fact to face that life will inevitably go on for everyone whether I’m here or not. While I’m away, I will be a vague but semi-persistent presence made audiovisual via video call or Instagram post (or if anyone I know ever happens upon this or future entries). But I will also be missing birthdays and special occasions, inside jokes and little moments in between.


I did these illustrations/collages for a local company a few years ago. They seem eerily appropriate now.

It won’t be easy to unspool from a life I’ve been twenty-six years woven into. But I don’t see it as cutting ties or complete severance from everything and everyone in my life. When cloth is unraveled, you find strings that remain unbroken all the way through, and strings that fall away where the knots or stitches weren’t strong enough to begin with. Disentanglement is a similar process.

(And now I end the–admittedly–lame metaphor. Ha.)


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