Some things will never fit the classroom

As the landscapes around me shifted, so did the shape of my questions and what I thought I was searching for. Much of what guides me today took root during those years on trail—in solitude, and in the company of others.

My teachers had hands.
Hooves. Wings. Roots.
They helped me see my place in the wider weave of life and led me back to wonder, a way of meeting the world I had almost forgotten. I owe them more than I know how to name.

Their lessons did not always arrive in words. The wind combing through tall grasses
taught me in ways no institution ever had.
I learned more from rivers than from rules.

Root & Antler is the den where I lay down what I am gathering—and what continues to gather me.

They demand sky. Weather.
Room to change.
Not bright halls, but a den.
I am one of them.

My name is Romy. I write, photograph, and make art with the land. For much of my life, I tried to fit into categories others could understand, yet whenever I made myself easier to place, essential parts of me were left outside. These days, I wonder less about where I fit than what I can make space for.

It took me decades to figure out that the second question would take me further than the first. In 2017, I left home for what was meant to be a six-week long-distance hike, with that first question still tucked inside my pack. But then one trail led to another. Years passed, and somewhere along the way, the miles added up to more than ten thousand.