a firm gaze in a leather jacket

2024, july 2

from my series of mini-portraits

when mia feels sorrow, she’s constantly on the lookout for salvation in the most mundane things. she sees it in the dust particles floating around her apartment when the sunlight hits just right. she looks for it in an ikea ad, imagining solace in the sofa on the poster. she finds herself trying to draw comfort from a family of ducklings swimming in the canal, or from a passerby who smiles at them as if she lives a life of steady emotions, unlike mia’s weekly rollercoaster.

today, mia saw a young girl walking along the sidewalk. the girl wore a light pink dress with a leather jacket over it, looking like she had just turned six, having just outgrown her baby chubbiness into a more elongated, school-aged form. her black curls were tied back, and she had this incredibly determined gaze, almost as if she’d been cast for a film poster because of that intense determination in her eyes.

in the girl’s pink dress, mia found a kind of permission to stay soft. the leather jacket and the girl’s resolute expression reminded mia that she can face anything with a determined look. it hit her that she’s allowed to be radically inconsistent—that even if something causes her pain, she doesn’t have to let it go. mia can be inconsistent and still hold her ground with a firm gaze.