Three years ago I wrote about 19,000 words of a first draft of a memoir. What I learned is that prose isn't really my medium. But it was cathartic. I ended up writing a path out for my younger self from a bad place, and it was helpful. I also figured out that I had written way too broadly, and the story I'd like to tell is tighter and centers around a transformative summer in Greece I was lucky enough to spend there. I thought that maybe someday I would mine some of that outpouring for graphic storytelling.

This spring, as I am stuck in my house for most of the days thanks to a flare up of the POTS I've been trying to figure out how to live with, I'm toying with that project again. I don't currently have the physicality to do a lot of standing up work in my print shop, but sitting on the couch and noodling with small illustrations gives me joy. And going back to relive some of that travel when I'm feeling more closed in is also appealing.

I don't honestly know if I'll have the courage to put this very personal story out into the world, but I'm enjoying exploring it. There is nothing like the brain fizz of a new project to perk you up a little. So here's the first page. We'll see how much more makes it to the public sphere.