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So what's the verdict, kids?

What's the conclusion?

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This has always been a study of the ever entangling relationship between  various forms of power and fear. I have been examining how my roles as editor, writer, and art student hold and are subject to both. I have discovered that fear is a powerful thing. Power can be a fearful thing. When administered with tact, criticality and awreness both can be used to nurture. 

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This started as an assessment of identity, a question of survival (which this experiment has done and answered). As I hoarded these memories in a practice of sentimentality and memory, I have learnt that I am a formidable woman. Repressed parts of me were unrepressed. I have always known who I am—editor, writer, art student—but what I hadn't understood was that these titles hold and are subject to power and fear.

I don't think I know where Moyé starts and where I end yet. My staff has taught be that I am the editor, the conductor of "a miracle of moving parts," and to do so I have to own my power. Relinquishing power is all well and good but if done in fear can inhibit me from doing my job. 

 

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The box is opened.

The poison identified.

The antidote administered.

The bird un-petrified.

From the ashes, the soft bird turned eagle awakens, leaving behind talons and feathers.