We are wild olive branches. We have drifted in the wind, aching for a home, a place to call our own. We were undisciplined fruits, our roots were cast into the ground on impulse, they traveled underground searching for stability, finding sand and stone. We are wayward daughters, we are defiant sons. But most of all, we are grafted.
music courtesy of la liberte
footage thanks to Louis Hintz & Catherine Marsh
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