Grandmother

**more images below

part of an ongoing series “witchy woo”

I hear the voice of my grandmothers’ calling me “Listen, child”

The dust that gathered is wiped clean, as the swirling wind reveals it all to me; the truths that have been long buried. 

Within our bones, magic grows—a tapestry of gifts and burdens woven through generations, waiting for us to uncover the silenced truths. Our ancestors chant in our glory as we break the chains and turn the pain into stardust.

We are connected through our roots, shielded by our grandmother’s prayers, held by our mother’s love, and guided by the strength of those who came before us. Daughters of courage, sons of guardians—may you always see the light guiding your way and never forget the softness within


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*please note that all creations are photographed in the daylight but please keep in mind there might be slight color variations between photos and the original creation.

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