#flocks

Life, March 20, 1970

L. Nichols, a trans man, artist, engineer and father of two, was born in rural Louisiana, assigned female and raised by conservative Christians. Flocks is his memoir of that childhood, and of his family, friends and community, the flocks of Flocks, that shaped and re-shaped him. L.’s irresistibly charming drawings demonstrate what makes Flocks so special: L.’s boundless empathy.

The Nose

Johfra Bosschart

Some things never. They just take. Let's. It was a season of my life. When every morning felt the same? I'd open my eyes already tired. Before the day could call my name. Every thought led back to heartache. I spent so long carrying sadness. I forgot what Freedom was. I knew every crack in the ceiling. Every shadow in the? A careful heart. But lately, something's been changing. In ways to smoke to? To a spring. It cannot keep. Your trumpet sounds. Your grand parade, just a quiet kind of healing. It doesn't reach every corner like before. It's still there sometime. Anymore. The heart still lives. But it don't own my. Today, I heard an old conversation. That once would have brought me down. But the memory passed right through me. Without pulling me underground. And I laughed at something simple. The way I used to do? Not because the pain is gone. But because I'm making room. May restraint is just surviving long enough to see. Doesn't feel the room anymore. It doesn't reach every corner. Like before, it's still there sometimes. Anymore. For the first. Catching myself smiling without a reason. But it don't own my. I spent years. Like, every broken piece of me. Was destined to remain. Doesn't feel anymore. It isn't the giant it was before the Shadow still visit, but they don't block the Sun. And that's enough to know. That healing has begun. Not changing. I don't dream again. Nothing's finished. The story's still unfolding? But tonight. There's more space & peace. And there was yesterday. And maybe tomorrow. Won't feel so heavy.