I walked the public labyrinth in downtown Toronto on Monday. It allowed me to transpose my anxiety into physicality, with kinetic energy, walking the winding path as if it were the depths of my twisted heart, walking through the mirages, past the trolls and through the murk of my feelings of inadequacy. I reached the center, which was so clearly defined in fixity, steadfastness and prominence. And as I stood in the flower of the labyrinth, I could see over all of the insidiously winding circuits that had led me to such a vantage point, knowing that it had been worth it all.
Interestingly, this all applies to my venture of locking my hair.
The labyrinth in Toronto Trinity Square Park





